


Mala Suledin Nadas

by Lady_Eglantine



Series: Ellana Lavellan [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Eglantine/pseuds/Lady_Eglantine
Summary: The Inquisitor makes her judgment on Thom Rainier. Now they must deal with the aftermath and find a path towards reconciliation, no matter the obstacles in their way. Even if one of them happens to be the Inquisitor’s Keeper.





	1. -1-

**Author's Note:**

> All the many thanks to the wonderful thievinghippo for her beta work! :D

**-1-**

After days of clouds and rain, the sun finally shone through the windows. Normally, Ellana would have welcomed the sight, but she paid little mind to it, fiddling with a map marker between her fingertips, staring aimlessly at the same spot on the map laid over the war room table.

But Ellana hadn’t come to resume planning out strategy for their eventual journey to the Arbor Wilds, or take stock of what still needed to be done before then. Even their planned trek to the Exalted Plains in the coming week was far from her thoughts. She had a much more pressing decision to make. And she was no closer to making one than when she first woke up.

She agreed for the judgment to be held in the morning, after the breakfast crowd had dispersed. Less chance of a large gathering that way. And Ellana saw no reason to draw this out, for either her or Black - _no, Thom Rainier now-_ sakes.

Ellana hadn’t known what to expect when she had followed him to Val Royeaux, but never in her wildest imaginings did she expect him to confess to the world, to her, that he was not in fact Warden Blackwall, but a wanted murderer named Thom Rainier. Ellana’d felt as if the ground had fallen out beneath her feet. Just as it had when her sister died, everything uprooted and shaken.

The day and weeks that had followed were a blur, marching from one task to the next only because she had to. Deliberating over how to get him released into Inquisition custody, the talks with Josephine over the terms. The anticipation and dread that it wouldn’t be enough, or that someone in the prison would decide to kill him themselves. Her relief upon confirmation of his return to Skyhold had been temporary, reminded that she would have to pass judgment on him.

Ellana wrestled with it throughout the night before, fighting a civil war amongst herself over what the sentence should be. Torn between setting him free to live as himself and find his own path of atonement, or sending him to the Grey Wardens after Corypheus’ defeat. She had hoped it would come to her, while out in the garden earlier, surrounded by the little piece of nature she had created for herself. But there had been no comfort to be found, her mind continuing to churn as she watered her embriums and elfroot over the best course of action.

She eventually had to leave after dawn, as people began emerging from their rooms to start the day. It’d been only a few -there weren’t many morning people in Skyhold, she had noticed- but Ellana preferred not to see anyone before the judgment. She had already heard enough opinions about it since her return from Val Royeaux. Including Keeper Deshanna’s.

Ellana imagined what the Keeper would say. She could hear it so clearly. The Keeper’s sympathetic yet firm voice telling Ellana that her duty to Thedas must come first, that he should have to face some form of penitence for his past crimes, that whatever had been between them had to end.

She set the marker down, pulling the Keeper’s letter out of her pocket, running her thumb along the crease. Ellana unfolded it, eyes darting to the part she’d read over and over again since it had arrived:

_Though I am sorry for the hurt this must undoubtedly cause you, it is better the truth be known before you committed yourselves further to each other. And I know it will be difficult to accept this loss, da’len, you must, for the sake of your cause._

She could only imagine what the Keeper would say now, if she knew. That Ellana hadn’t accepted the possibility of his loss, that plans had already been in the works to get him out of Orlais. The lengths she would have gone to free him if negotiations failed, even if it meant negative consequences to the Orlesian alliance.

Ellana had nixed Cullen’s initial idea -of storming the prison with a small force of Inquisition soldiers- and Leliana’s -of swapping Thom out with an Inquisition traitor- because Ellana came to the belief that it was best to attempt a diplomatic solution. But she never forgot about these options, kept them in the back of her mind as contingency plans. Ready to express, in fact order, the implementation of one of them if Orlais rejected their offer.

All because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing the one person who meant as much as her sister had.

Suddenly feeling restless after standing in place for -actually, she wasn’t sure for how long- she went over to one of the windows, resting her cheek against the cool glass and metal.

A bone weary fatigue settled over her, threatening to drag her down. The last few weeks had not been kind. Between almost losing her sister's token out in Emprise du Lion and this, she felt stretched to the end of her endurance. And even after she made her judgment, she knew it wouldn’t end. The consequences of his deception went beyond their relationship.

Already the Wardens sent word, demanding to know what happened to the real Blackwall. Already she watched the chevaliers with unease, wondering what they might want to do to the man who had once been one of their own. Already there were grumblings from some Inquisition soldiers that Thom had been brought back to Skyhold at all.

Creators, why did she have to clean up _his_ mess, she thought, a sudden burst of anger filling her. He was the one who had lied, the one who had committed the crime.

But her body immediately deflated at the realization she’d been pulled into it by her insistence to save him.

Ellana barely registered the first knock, mistaking it for the wind. The second came more forcefully, reverberating around the room, the noise startling her, causing her to bang into the window. Rubbing at her head, she went over to the other end of the room just as Josephine entered. Ellana knew what Josephine wanted before she even had to say anything, before Josephine told her Cullen had gone down to the dungeons.

The time had finally come.

Ellana willed herself through the door, one leg at a time through the hallway and Josephine’s office. Upon entering the main hall, she avoided the gazes of the spectators, careful to keep her focus straight ahead, to the throne where she decided the fates of all those brought before her. A heavy burden, one she never shirked from despite how difficult some of the sentences were to make. She couldn’t falter now.

As Ellana sat down, she surveyed the crowd before her, one that stretched all the way to the door. Her hopes to avoid a larger gathering had clearly failed. But Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine had all been adamant that she had to make an example of him in public. Back-room dealings had already been done in getting him released to their custody; they didn’t need the judgment to appear as such either.

She always hated this part, waiting for the prisoners to be brought before her. So many with their eyes on her, watching her every move, her every facial expression, as if to be given a sign of how the judgment would be cast. Most times Josephine would give her a briefing beforehand, so as to give her some time to think through options. The announcement part was more of a formality. But it seemed everyone’s focus was on her today, their eyes staring through her, to see the vortex of emotions swirling through her.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. She spotted the figures who appeared at the door. Two Inquisition guards, their prisoner fixed in between them, staring at the floor as he was made to walk forward. Cullen appeared just behind them, taking his place by the door. Ellana couldn’t clearly make out his expression, but she suspected it was hardly a pleasing one. He hadn’t bothered to hide his displeasure over what Thom did; many of their companions hadn’t. Unlike Sera, who had been the sole voice chastising her for not doing _enough_ to free him. At least until Ellana had admitted she wouldn’t leave him there.

Finally, the Inquisition soldiers deposited Thom before her. Josephine’s words passed over Ellana as she took him in. The last time she’d seen him had been at the prison, when she went to confront him, question him about his crime, and his involvement with the real Blackwall. Only a month had passed yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

It was difficult to be certain, with the thick padding of his gambeson covering his body, but she worried how much weight he’d lost, as his face appeared thinner than she remembered. A cut that looked to be healing was also visible along his cheek. She shuddered to think what had been done to him while in prison.

He still hadn’t looked her in the eye, his head lowered to the point his beard was almost against his chest. She had never seen him so beaten down, as if he expected her wrath upon him. She knew she had every right to do just that, but Ellana couldn’t deny it hurt to see him like this.

Then Josephine announced that the decision of what to do with Thom Rainier was up to hers.

So there it finally was. They had reached this moment at last.

And she still had absolutely no idea what to say.

“I didn’t think this would be easy, but it’s harder than I thought.” She would start with honesty. It was the only way forward now.

“Another thing to regret…” he muttered and Ellana felt the bitterness in those four words. “What did you have to do to release me?”

“Josephine called in a few favors. There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition,” she said, voice as level as she could manage.

“And what happens to the reputation that the ambassador has so carefully cultivated? The world will learn how you’ve used your influence. They’ll know the Inquisition’s corrupt.”

Ellana did her best not to show how his accusing tone cut through her. That reactionary part of her, the small part that still resided within her, wanted to lash back, snap at him that he had no grounds to act morally superior over her. But she held back, not wanting this to be any more of a spectacle.

“I wish there’d been another way, but my options were limited.”

“You could have left me there!” Ellana honestly couldn’t tell how much of the anger she heard in his voice was directed at her or himself. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?”

A collective silence fell over the crowd, breathlessly waiting for what she was going to say. Even Josephine watched her intently, practically gripping her easel to her chest.

Ellana knew what was expected of her. Already rumors had started to swirl about the strings Josephine pulled with Orlesian nobility to get him released into Inquisition custody. About how the Inquisitor was using her political power to free her lover, justice be damned. If she released him without any sort of punishment, that would only fuel the flames of those rumors even more, no matter if she passed merciful sentences when she could to others. It would undermine her credibility which she had been working to establish since those first days when the Chantry had branded her a heretic. On its face, the decision should be simple.

Except she wouldn't have been so conflicted for all this time if it was that easy. Otherwise she would have already made the decision to just send him to the Wardens once Corypheus was dealt with and be done with this whole mess. It made the most logical sense. The real Blackwall had intended for him to join, and it offered Thom a chance to atone. And if those calling for blood got their wish, from what she understood, the Joining could do just that, not to mention the Calling.

But the one thing that stopped her was the one thing that never gave up trying to save him from execution.

She loved him. Creators help her, she still loved him, with everything she had.

And in that moment, she made her choice. The one _Ellana_ , not the Inquisitor, wanted to make all along.

“You have your freedom.”

The eruption of murmurings was instantaneous, like being trapped in a disturbed bee hive. But she blocked it out, her focus entirely on the man on whose sentence she passed judgment on, watching his face morph into that of disbelief, relief, and pained resignation all at once.

“It cannot be as simple as that.”

“It isn’t. You’re free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were, or the Warden you pretended to be,” she said, gazing at him with as much firmness as had been in her voice.

“It’ll take time. You’d accept that? And what I used to be?” he asked, with a slight tentativeness.

She nodded, about to signal to Josephine or one of the Inquisition guards to remove his shackles, then she noticed Thom take a step forward.

“Before I take my leave, I have one thing to say. If ever there was something true and good in my life, it was you.”

Ellana’s breath caught in her throat, her chest tightened. She had to force herself not to become overwhelmed at the tenderness, the conviction, of his words. Before she could even respond, he took another step.

“I lied about who I was.” Then he took another.” But I never lied about what I felt.”

Her heart thumped against her chest. It took every effort to keep her face as static as possible.

_What is he doing? Creators, what is he doing?_

“No matter what I was, or what becomes of me…right now, I’m just a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands.”

All Ellana could do was sit still in place, hands glued to the throne arms, floored by the raw emotion she saw and heard in his voice. Whatever he may have been, whatever lies he had told, there was no doubt of the sincerity of his words.

But Elgar’nan, why couldn’t he have waited until they were alone to discuss this, when he knew full well the audience behind them? By giving this proclamation to everyone in this hall, he had essentially just declared his love for her to all of Thedas.

Yet a warmth flooded through her, a familiar feeling that she hadn’t felt since he left. Of knowing she was loved, of his devotion. That it still burned as fiercely as it ever had.

So many people saw only the Inquisitor, the Herald who would be their savior. Where people regarded her with a reverence to that of some deity, Thom’s reverence was that of someone who adored and loved _her_. It had meant everything to Ellana, kept her grounded, reminded her that she didn’t have to face things alone. Just like she’d told him on the Storm Coast, at the spot where they found the real Blackwall’s badge.

And she still didn’t. She didn’t want to face the battles that were coming their way alone. She didn’t just want her companions by her side to weather the storm. She wanted her vhenan there, too.

Ellana had no doubt how difficult it would be. She was still angry with him, for lying, for leaving like he did. They had a lot to work out, things to address, trust to rebuild. Handling the fallout from others within Skyhold, throughout Thedas, even among their inner circle. She didn’t even want to think about her clan’s reaction, the Keeper’s reaction.

But she still wanted to give him, _them_ , another chance, consequences be damned.

Before she could stop herself, before she could escort them somewhere private, the words left her. “You were ready to die. But I wasn’t ready to let you go. Your place is here with me.”

And, Creators, if those weren’t the truest words she’d ever said.

Instead of looking happy at his love not being rejected, he looked away from her, a pained expression crossing his face, admitting softly, “I don’t know how to be with you as Thom Rainier.”

No longer aware of her surroundings, her focus was solely on him. The rational part of her tried to stop herself from standing, from approaching him as slowly as he did towards her, that they couldn’t make this more anymore of a show. But as Ellana stared down at Thom’s face, at the hope that suddenly crossed it, she couldn’t find herself caring what anyone else in the hall thought.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, sending him a ghost of a smile. Of some reassurance that she was willing. Take things one step at a time.

“Together.”

That one word of affirmation brought with a sense of finality, the path laid before her. One that she would follow alongside the man who she could still call her vhenan.

He closed the remaining distance between them, stepping up to the landing just below hers. Out of instinct, she reached out and touched his cheek, cradling it gently in her hand. Her eyes briefly closed at the touch, this first physical contact in a month. Just as if nothing had changed, as if there weren’t a crowd of people gawking at this tender moment between two lovers who had committed themselves to each other.

Thom didn’t flinch away like she thought he might, instead flashing her the tiniest of smiles before tilting his head up and leaning towards her. Her hands went to his shoulders as their lips met. The lightest of kisses yet her sense of the world seemed to fall away, centered on this moment between them. No sooner had it begun than they pulled away, and Ellana signaled for the guard. Thom bowed his head before her and went over to him.

Once the shackles fell from Thom’s wrists, he stood rubbing them, keeping his head tucked down yet not moving. Ellana went over to his side, murmuring that she’d go with him back down to the stables. She turned to face Josephine, slight shock still visible in her eyes, telling her that she would return shortly.

The crowd parted as she and Thom passed, still the same buzzing sounds from them as before. No one mercifully said anything, clearly none in the crowd brazen enough to harass Thom in her presence.

They didn’t say anything to each other as they walked out to the courtyard, and down the steps. There was not much they could say at the moment, not within public ear. They had given people enough to talk about for one day. Nor did she know what to say.

No one milled about the barn, not even Dennet, for which she was grateful. That would make things easier for Thom.

Ellana looked around her; she had been avoiding the stables and barn ever since she came back from Val Royeaux. She lost count the number of times she had sought refuge there before, considered it as much a place of solace as her quarters. But the reminders of his departure were still there: the unfinished wooden griffin that had had the cryptic farewell note pinned to it; the creak of the loft which had woken her up to find him gone; standing in the same spot as when reading over the report about Mornay. She wondered how long it would take for those reminders, and the hurt they brought with them, to fade.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up, get some rest?” she suggested softly. “I’m sure you need it. I’ll come by later.”

That seemed to shake him out of his stupor, gave him something to focus on. “Of course, my lady.”

The moment between them with that kiss had gone, replaced with the knowledge that things were still fragile and fractured between them. But she was already mentally exhausted from the toll of the judgment, and by the sag of his shoulders and drawn look on his face, she could guess he was, too. Now was not the time for serious discussion.

Glancing around to make sure no one outside was in view of them, she walked up to Thom and wrapped her arms around his waist. Only when she felt his come around and hold her tightly to him did she rest her head against the crook of his neck with a contented sigh.

Ellana was angry with him; she wanted answers to a number of questions. But being in his arms, how good it felt and the safety it brought, was still there.

And that was a start.


	2. -2-

**-2-**

Blackwall should have seen this fucking coming.

Barely one day out, and already someone decided to seek out their own revenge. But Blackwall shouldn't have been surprised that there were those who saw Ellana's judgment as insufficient punishment. He should have been hanging by a noose by now. It was what he deserved. He didn't deserve to walk as a free man.

He especially didn’t deserve to be sitting back in the loft, Ellana treating him after the fight with the chevalier who attacked him. It was as if nothing had changed, her dabbing at his wounds with such care, such gentleness. But it was an illusion. _Everything_ had changed. And just because Ellana had, to his astonishment, taken him back, it didn't mean things would go back to the way they used to, that things would be easier. 

“Fortunately, the cut on your cheek didn’t reopen. Probably still be swelling around it, though.”

“It’s alright, my lady. I can take a punch or two.” He wouldn’t say it had been more than that. But it had become a familiar feeling to him over the years, the slight pounding in his face, of swollen cheeks and healing cuts and scrapes on his face. It was truly nothing new to him. 

She looked at him, her eyes analyzing him in the way she did when searching for further injuries. “No pain or discomfort anywhere else?”

Blackwall shook his head. That bastard chevalier had gotten a few lucky hits to the gut, but they’d just left him momentarily winded. No permanent damage. A major boon to having his gambeson on, to help curb the punches’ impact. “None elsewhere.”

Ellana nodded, seemingly satisfied with that, then dunked the rag she’d been using to clean his face back into the wet bucket. As she slowly wrung the rag out, her face shifted, glancing up at him with a question in her eyes.

He grimaced when Ellana dabbed at a scrape on his left cheek. As she continued, she asked softly, “How badly did they treat you? In the prison?”

Blackwall had to look away, glancing out the opening of the barn, not trusting himself to prevent becoming overwhelmed by the concern in her voice and eyes. “Nothing less than I expected.”

It didn't take long for the guards, even some of the prisoners, to gang up on him. The fist-fights and beatings. As the days passed, he came to wish more and more for his end, wondering if the Orlesians’ plan was to torture him for weeks before they granted him a release into the Void. Then he found out, from one of the guards. Not directly -the sadistic bastards would never bother to tell him anything useful- but overhearing a conversation between two of them as they made their rounds. Both barely able to hide their disgust that the lady Josephine was there on the Inquisitor’s behalf to negotiate terms of release into Inquisition custody.

He couldn’t believe it. Only when Inquisition soldiers appeared at his cell, informing him that he was to be escorted back to Skyhold for pending judgment, did he realize the lengths to which Ellana would go to save him from a traitor’s death. One that he fully deserved. One that he’d _wanted_. 

“And the Inquisition soldiers who retrieved you? They didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

The cool, damp cloth against his face brought him back from those dark thoughts. “Roughed me up a bit.” Nothing so harsh as the Orlesian guards, but the Inquisition ones weren’t exactly gentle handling him in and out of the cell. Blackwall wouldn’t pretend that didn’t hurt, that soldiers he’d recognized fighting alongside at Adamant treated him like a criminal. But he found no reason to protest about it, as he wouldn’t have an ally in the Commander anyway. The look of disgust he’d given Blackwall on the way to the main hall hadn’t escaped his notice.

“I’ll talk to Cullen about this,” she said, her mouth set in a firm line.

Blackwall shook his head. “You don’t have to, it’s…” He trailed off, wanting to say “nothing I don’t deserve,” but he had already tried saying it earlier. And if the sudden warning look in Ellana’s eyes was any indication, the attempt would not be well-received a second time, either.

“I won’t have anyone under my banner treating people like that, regardless of their crimes.”

They fell silent as she resumed her treatments. He’d never minded it before, always content to be in her presence, regardless if words were shared or not. Holding her close in his arms, her face pressed against his neck. Or his head resting in her lap, as her willowy fingers weaved through his hair and beard. But this silence was an uncomfortable one, air stifling with tension, of the issues he had created between them once he had stolen away in the night all those weeks ago.

The evidence of which could plainly be seen on Ellana herself. He’d hoped he was mistaken when he saw her the day before, that it had just been a trick of the light. But she indeed look haggard, with pronounced circles under her eyes, and gaunter in the face. Blackwall could only guess how much she actually ate and slept in the time since Val Royeaux.

“I suppose I should thank you. For coming by when you did. And for…everything.”

The words felt off on his tongue, as if he was saying words he felt he needed to, that he didn’t really mean. And by the frown on Ellana’s face, she could tell too. “You don’t need to.” She reached down for the mortar with crushed elfroot paste, dabbing some on the tips of two fingers. “Here, let me see your lip again.”

Blackwall compiled, catching smell of the minty odor of the paste, only letting out a small grunt at the sting of it on his wound.

“Abelas.” Ellana gently rubbed the paste in. “I wish you wouldn’t act like that.”

He was forced to wait until she had finished her work. “Like what?”

“Like you shouldn’t have anyone supporting you, advocating for you. I made my choice, and people need to respect it, not try and hurt you.”

Blackwall shouldn’t have been surprised at that. She always thought he’d been too hard on himself. But that was before she _knew_. It remained impossible for him to comprehend that she set him free without any real sentence, and he couldn’t describe the feelings of ranging emotions of disbelief and anger that went through him at the verdict.

“Just because you feel I shouldn’t be punished doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it.” The words escaped him in a harsh breath, but he wouldn’t take them back. It was strange to be so open about his feelings of guilt, when he had been so closed off about them with her for so long. He didn’t know whether he should feel relief or a sense of fatigue at now having to face what he was rather than hiding it away.

Her hands paused for the slightest moment before she set down the paste beside her. Then she glanced over at him, sadness filling her eyes. He hated seeing it; he especially hated seeing it when he was the cause of it. Her mouth shifted, looking like she was about to say something, but no words followed. Instead, she reached for a clean rag, gingerly dabbing it across his face.

“There,” Ellana said with a sigh once she finished. “That should take care of the worst of it.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Normally he’d follow his appreciation of treating his wounds with a kiss, but he didn’t want to presume. They hadn’t shared another since the day before, and there was still a formality between them that hadn’t been there since the early days of Haven. She should be the one to take the lead, not him.

Ellana nodded, but didn’t say in anything in reply. The uncomfortable silence between them was back, with Ellana playing with the cloth in her hands and Blackwall shifting awkwardly against the hay.

Maker, he was absolutely fucking _clueless_ on what to do, how to go about making things right. Everything had seemed so clear, when Blackwall had declared his love for her in the main hall. But now, faced with the chance to begin making his amends… he had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one, with Ellana admitting softly, “I don’t know where to start with this.”

“I don’t either,” he said, finding some solace in her feeling as lost as he was on where to begin.

They hadn’t said much the day before, when Ellana came back. Only questions about how he met the real Blackwall and the Wardens. Ending with the question of what everyone should call him.

Blackwall asked to still go by that name, to treat as a title like Inquisitor, give him something to work towards. To his relief, she agreed, but unease immediately followed when she requested in return to call him Thom when they were alone. Blackwall was reluctant. He’d spent so long shunning that name, trying to separate himself from it and the terrible actions committed under it. But he knew she’d set him free on the condition that he atone as Thom Rainier, whoever he was, not Blackwall. And he didn’t have any real grounds to refuse being called that name, not after what he’d put her through.

“I’m still angry,” she said, a steely edge in her voice

“I know,” he said with acceptance. He was amazed that she wasn’t angrier, what he had been picturing the entire journey back to Skyhold. “For what it’s worth, I’m…” He swallowed, a sudden lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Blackwall knew it wouldn’t be as simple as saying those two words, but he figured they wouldn’t hurt.

Her hands stilled. Then with a tired sigh, she stood up off the hay and journeyed over to the other side of the loft, standing over the spot where they had last slept together, where he had left her that night. Just as he had felt more on solid ground, he could feel himself slipping off the longer time ticked by with her silence.

As he debated whether to stay still or to join her, she said in the faintest of voices that Blackwall had to strain to hear, “I knew something was wrong the moment I saw that badge.”

He froze, fearing what her next words would be, whether she’d suddenly realized what a bastard he actually was. 

“I could sense you were troubled, but it wasn’t until I saw the badge that I really…then I saw the note. I feared you’d gone off to your Calling, even though you promised you’d tell me.”

The words seemed flat, but Blackwall knew Ellana well enough by now to know when she was trying to sound unemotional and diplomatic when she was feeling anything but. Excuses and professions swirled in his head, of conveying that he didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to hurt her, but all of them sounded absolutely hollow, even in his head. So he chose to stay silent.

“Then one of Leliana’s scouts showed me the report you had about Mornay. I suspected it was someone you knew in your past, but I never thought-”

“You never thought I was a murderer of children?” he finished darkly for her, unable to keep quiet.

She turned to face him, gaze intently on him. “You didn’t tell me, why you didn’t stop, when you saw they were there.”

“I had the chance to, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t want my men to find out the truth. That I used them to line my own pockets.” He buried his head into his hand, unable to bear looking at her, the terrified faces of those children flashing before his eyes. “That’s all it was ever about. Respected captain in the Orlesian army, and it was still not enough.”

He could remember the moment he reported to Ser Robert’s contact that the job was done, the sack of coins placed into his hand. For the first time, he truly felt the weight of the gold he had taken. Yet even then he still didn’t do the honorable thing and turn himself in, still valuing his own skin over others. He fled the moment word got out about the massacre, before anyone could come looking for him. Leaving everything behind but his sword and those blood-soaked coins. Coins that would quickly be spent on booking passage elsewhere, and between drinks and trips to the brothel. All in a vain attempt to hide and forget. 

He let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “I’m still that selfish, fucking coward. I knew you deserved to know; I knew you deserved better. But I didn’t want to lose you.”

Blackwall heard her light as air footsteps approach him, the shuffling of the hay as she sat back down beside him. Then he felt her hand on his forearm.

“You should have let me decide that,” she said, gentle yet firm.

“I feared what you would’ve decided,” he admitted, forcing himself to glance up at her. But he found no judgment in her eyes, no heated anger or disgust. And it both soothed and hurt to see.

“I’ll admit, it would’ve been hard.” Her hand fell back to her side. “It _was_ , when I found out.”

“So why did you fight so hard for me?”

“Because you’re not that same man anymore. You did a terrible thing, Thom.” He couldn’t hide the wince at hearing her speak his true name. “I can’t forgive you for that. Only you can.”

She reached her hand out, caressing his face with such tenderness that his eyes closed at her touch, as healing as her actual treatment. “But I can for the rest.”

He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t deserve your…”

Ellana placed a finger on his lips. “It’s _mine_ to give. As is my love, whether you think it’s deserved or not.”

She made it sound so simple, but he had spent so long feeling unworthy of such affection and devotion, even while they were together. It was hard to start believing otherwise.

Overcome with the knowledge that he was to spend the rest of his days seeking atonement, he dared to press his brow against hers. And to his relief, she didn’t pull away.

 _“Ana…_ ” His petname for her escaped him in a ragged, broken whisper.

She grabbed for his hands, cradling them in hers. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

And he answered by clutching her hands, and her soft declaration, like a drowning man trying to stay afloat and holding onto the one thing that would keep him from sinking into the dark abyss.

“I love you, too,” he said, his voice just as quiet as hers.

Blackwall would have been content to stay like this longer, if his stomach hadn’t decided to interrupt with a loud grumble.

“Suppose I should find some breakfast,” he said with a sheepish smile, a slight chuckle in his voice.

He hadn’t actively thought about food for the past few weeks. Anything that he’d eaten in the prison were practically scraps or, more often than not, had some kind of mold growing on it. But Blackwall remembered Ellana saying something about going out to the Exalted Plains soon, and wanting him to come along. It heartened Blackwall that she still trusted him to watch her back out in the field. The least he could do was regain some weight and strength he lost, and try to be in the best shape he could be. 

“They were starting to set things out when I passed through. They should be done by now.”

But Blackwall shook his head, dread filling him at facing the crowd that came with the breakfast hour. “I don’t think it’s wise for me to join you. Not yet.” It’s why he hadn’t gone to supper the night before. He hadn’t wanted scowling faces and piercing eyes staring at him as he picked at his mutton.

He caught Ellana’s slight frown, and he braced for her argument. But her face slackened and her eyes softened, understanding filling them.

“I’ll go, then, and bring something back. We can talk some more after.”

Blackwall took one of their joined hands and kissed the back of hers, like he had done so many times before.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, grateful she wasn’t pushing the issue.

A small smile appeared on her face, a bit stronger than the one she’d given him the day before at his judgment. She stood up, but not before briefly brushing her lips against his brow. “I’ll be back, vhenan.”

He still didn’t know what a wretch like him had done to deserve a blessing such as her. He probably never would.

But as he watched Ellana head down the stairs, he swore to make every effort to be worthy of it, that she would never have to doubt his place by her side again.


	3. -3-

**-3-**

The realities of what they still had to overcome were made clear by the day’s end.

Ellana had known it wouldn’t be easy, that their path forward wouldn’t be a straight one, that it would likely have bumps. But she had allowed herself to become too hopeful after their first conversation. And when she’d rejoined him, with some rolls and apples in hand, he’d actually shared a bit about his days after winning the Grand Tourney without much prompting from her. Even though their time was cut short by the arrival of one of Leliana’s scouts, Ellana had left the barn feeling like less of a weight was pressing down on her than the day before, having parted from him with the promise they’d see each other in the evening, that he’d come up to her quarters for the night.

But the weight quickly came back upon meeting with Leliana, who informed her that Thom’s assailant had been caught, and would be kept jailed or banished upon her request. Ellana thought it safer to send him away.

She would have found some ease at the news, if Leliana hadn’t followed with the warning that there were likely others in Skyhold who shared his sentiment, also itching for the chance to do him harm.

Ellana spent the rest of the day in dread she’d be told of another attack, wondering if Skyhold wasn’t as safe as she thought it would be for Thom. She breathed a cautious sigh of relief once supper arrived that none of Leliana’s agents had brought her such news.

Thom didn’t join her then, having told her he’d probably eat with Sera. Ellana didn’t fault him for it. She recalled how long it took her to feel like she could eat with everyone again after Bri’s death, how she appreciated the Keeper not pushing her until she was ready. Though their circumstances weren’t at all the same, Ellana extended the same courtesy to Thom, let him take what time he needed.

Ellana was put even more at ease when she spotted Thom afterwards in the hall entrance, meeting up with her as promised to accompany her up to her quarters. But just as they reached the door, the cry of “Filthy traitor!” rang through the hall. Thom froze while Ellana whirled around to face those who still remained. Her hand twitched at her side, ready to cast a defensive spell, Leliana’s warning ringing in her ears. She turned back towards the door, her other hand reaching for the handle when she heard the second cry of “Murderer!”

She spun around again, anger rising in her, fixing everyone with a piercing stare.

“Who said that?” Ellana demanded, her commanding tone carrying throughout the hall. She rarely had to raise her voice anymore. Only when she needed to break up fights, to assert her authority. And this was one of those times when she needed to make clear, remind everyone her judgment on Thom was final, that his safety would not be threatened again.

Some backed away, some even sent her bitter looks, but no one came forward. Ellana was prepared to wait them out until she heard Thom’s soft plea for her not to do anything. She turned around in a huff, ordering the guard Tobias who stood on watch by her door to not let through anyone who wasn’t pre-approved by her. He nodded with a short “Yes, Inquisitor,” yet did not look her, or Thom, in the eye. 

“Why did you stop me?” she asked once in the safety of her quarters, watching his back from the top of the stair landing.

“It wouldn’t have helped anything.”

The absolute certainty in his voice, the matter of factness with which he said it, caused her to ask in frustration, “Isn’t it worth finding out?”

“People’s opinions won’t always change just because you will it. You should know that,” he said, sounding as irritated as she was.

“Which is why this needs to be addressed before it festers. And things get worse for you.”

Thom stared back at her, pain in his gaze. “It might be too late for that, my lady.”

The question was on the tip of her tongue, prompted by the hurt of his answer, of why he was even bothering to stay if he felt that way, but she stopped herself. That wouldn’t help them now. Not when they were both upset. And if there was one thing she swore not to do during all this was let her temper get the better of her like with Bri. The consequences had been too devastating to risk losing control of her emotions again. 

Ellana gave a deep sigh, trying to rid herself of the anger before it threatened to overtake her. Once she took a few steadying breaths, counting halla in her head, she said, feeling much calmer, “Let’s just get into bed. It’s been a long day for both of us. We can talk more tomorrow.”

He nodded in agreement, looking as if he could little else. “As you wish.”

When they finally settled into bed, things immediately felt off. It wasn’t necessarily the fact that they were sleeping in underclothes -that was common enough while out on the road- it was the lack of intimacy. Being in underclothes never stopped her from curling against him, pressing her face into his chest, the crook of his shoulder, the side of his neck. It never stopped him from wrapping his arms around her, face occasionally pressed into her stomach, her own shoulder or neck.

But this time, each kept to their side of the bed. Just a simple “good night” between them. No kisses, no tender touches, no rearranging themselves so their bodies intertwined with each other to the point they couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. 

The worst of it was she found herself unable to go to sleep, lying there staring at the ceiling, listening to Thom’s soft snores. That wasn’t in itself unusual, depending on how much still weighed on her mind. But when she finally managed to sleep, it wasn’t for long, waking up to find herself in a panic. Looking over to Thom’s side of the bed.

As if afraid he had disappeared again.

The second time it happened, she found Thom’s eyes staring back at her. No words passed between them, but from the guilt and sorrow that passed over his face, that shone in his eyes, she wondered if he could sense the reason for her troubled sleep.

Too exhausted to talk, unable to bear the look in his eyes, she turned on her side, facing away from him. Ellana still didn’t say anything when she felt the gentlest pressure between her shoulder blades. She would have accepted such silent touches before, when he couldn’t find -or perhaps didn’t want to say- the words he needed to; now…now she didn’t know what she wanted from him.

Her thoughts began swirling with “what ifs” as she listened to Thom’s snores resume. What if they couldn’t work past this? What if the wounds just couldn’t be healed? What if things at Skyhold became too much, and he decided he had to leave? She knew she couldn’t force him to stay with her.

Ellana wiped away a stray tear, forcing herself to get a grip. It wasn’t hopeless. This was just another hurdle, that was all. Another obstacle between them and the place they needed to get to.

 _One day at a time_ , she reminded herself, forcing her eyes to close. _One day at a time._

* * *

The next day passed with none of the prior day’s excitement, though it was just as long. Going from one meeting or consultation or inspection to the next -including that promised talk with Cullen, making clear her rules for treatment of her prisoners- all under the effects of a foggy head and pounding behind the eyes. She finally got a reprieve at supper, which once again, she didn’t see Thom.

Ellana headed to the barn in search of him. But she didn’t spot him up in the loft. She had to quell her initial gut reaction that something had happened or he had fled once again, forcing herself to think of the next logical place he’d be.

Ellana was spared the trouble of going into Herald’s Rest, encountering Thom as he left the tavern and heading in the direction of the stairs.

“There you are,” she said with a measure of relief, which she made no effort to hide.

“My lady,” he greeted with a slight bow, his body tense with formalness.

“Decided to eat with Sera again?” she asked, suspecting the answer.

Thom nodded, confirming it. “If that’s alright.”

“Of course.” She glanced up at the stairs. “Were you planning to come up tonight?”

He nodded again, though it was one of both determination and uncertainty. “Was just about to. Unless you’d rather…”

She shook her head, stopping him before he could finish. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

With that, they walked up the stairs side by side, their hands just in reach of each other, but she didn’t try to take it. Not only to avoid more attention on themselves, but Ellana still sensed a distance between them, an invisible barrier that had been built up the night before that they had yet to penetrate.

They passed through the main hall without incident this time. Though she thought she heard someone hiss in their general direction, Ellana let it go.

“How did today go? What did you end up doing?” she asked, their footsteps echoing off the stone steps as they began the journey up.

“Went to the training ground. Felt good to swing a sword again.”

“Was anyone else there?”

She watched Thom’s face fall at the question. And Ellana knew how that went before he even said anything. “Not for long. Many quickly left once I arrived. No one said much. The dirty looks were enough. Even from Cassandra. I thought the fire coming from her eyes would be enough to melt me on sight.”

Ellana fought back a sigh. She’d have to talk to Cassandra. She had to be certain that even if Cassandra couldn’t forgive him, that they would still have each other’s backs in a fight.

“No one else gave you any trouble, did they?”

“I went to one of the merchants outside the stables. Figured as good a time as any to get a new whetstone. Told me point blank he didn’t sell to murderers and to look elsewhere.”

The words “I’m sorry” were on the tip of her tongue. But Ellana knew if she said them, he would immediately dismiss them, say something to the effect they all had the right to be angry, that he wasn’t worth her sympathy, which she would then argue.

And Ellana just didn’t have the energy for that at the moment.

She couldn’t say that energy would come back to her either when they reached her quarters, and Ellana found the nightly stack of parchment waiting for her on her desk, courtesy of Josephine and Leliana.

“I didn’t think it would be this many,” Ellana said, an apology in her voice.

“It’s alright, Ana,” he replied, almost a little too quickly, as if somewhat relieved. “I’ll wait up.”

Ellana nodded, already moving to her desk. She caught sight of her unfinished letter to the Keeper in the corner, barely two sentences besides a greeting and asking how she was doing. She still had yet to figure out the right words to say about her and Thom; it would help if she was certain how things would turn out, even where they currently stood.

But Ellana couldn’t worry about the letter now, grabbing it and putting in an empty drawer to keep from distracting her. She had to get through at least some of the pile before her. And the sooner she started, the sooner she and Thom could try to talk. Or if nothing else, get into bed and try for a more restful night’s sleep.

But it quickly became clear to her that she wouldn’t make it too far. She viewed the reports and correspondence with only half her usual focus, re-reading the same sentence over and over, the words blurring together on the page as she struggled to keep her eyes open, exhaustion starting to catch up with her.

Ellana chanced a glance over at Thom, who showed much more focus on the carving he worked on, knife gliding across the wood block in his hand. He was rarely one to be still, in all the time she’d known him. Being in that tight cell, unable to go a few steps without meeting a wall, must have been torture for him.

She turned back to Harding’s report on Freemen movements in Orlais, but instead found herself wondering where such nervous energy came from. Had it always been there, or did it come about after his crimes, to help him forget, even if for just a moment?

Ellana didn’t wonder such thoughts for much longer. No sooner was she staring mindlessly at the report in her hand, had her eyes slipped closed, she found herself being shaken awake, discomfort in her chin.

“You should go to bed,” she heard above her.

Ellana rubbed at her eyes, realizing she’d fallen asleep sideways on top of her desk, her chin pressing on its edge. “I’m awake.”

Thom chuckled, yet it felt more reserved than before. As if he didn’t have the right yet to enjoy himself more. Ellana wondered how long it would take to hear his belly laugh reverberating around the room again. “Clearly.”

She massaged her chin as she lifted her head up off the desk. “More tired than I thought, I guess.”

What lightheartedness had been on Thom’s face diminished at her words, as if remembering the night before, that he had contributed to her current struggle to stay awake. “You should try and get some sleep, my lady. No point in sitting here trying to slog your way through.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, already reaching for the report she’d been reading, but she was stopped by a gentle hand over hers.

“We both know you’re not.”

His certain words sparked the anger inside her that she’d been trying to keep reined in, wanting to snap back why that was, that she’d been getting by on restless nights since his departure, but she pushed the anger right back down.

“Alright. If you insist,” Ellana said with a defeated sigh, already getting up, resigned to the fact they wouldn’t be talking again that night. “Are you coming to bed too?”

“In a bit. But I’ll be right here,” Thom said, gesturing over to the couch.

 _That’s the problem, isn’t it_ , Ellana thought with slight bitterness as she retrieved her nightshirt. Before all this, she never would have doubted those words. Now she couldn’t even trust falling asleep without fear of finding him vanished into the night again.

She knew it couldn’t continue like this. She couldn’t doubt his place at her side. But as Ellana stripped her clothes, she struggled to think of a way to address it without becoming upset. She knew she was justified in that, but she _couldn’t_ allow herself to lose control like she did with Bri.

Perhaps it would come to her in the morning, after a better night’s rest, she tried to encourage herself as she climbed into bed.

But any initial hopes of peaceful sleep were dashed with her inability to fall asleep, her exhausted gaze always managing to drift over to Thom’s blurry form on the couch. Then when she finally did, she awoke to the room awash in darkness, the candles and fire snuffed out. Her eyes once again immediately searched around, finding Thom to the side, his back facing her. She lost track of the minutes she counted before finally falling asleep again.

But then Ellana awoke for a third time, shooting up with a gasp, her body catapulted upright from the force of coming out of the Fade, a wounded noise escaping her and tears continuing to fall. The images were hazy, but there were enough remnants for her to know what she had dreaming about, leaving her feeling cold, like her body had been encased in ice, seeping into her very soul.

“My lady…what is it? What’s the matter?” She almost started at the groggy voice beside her. In her stupor, she had forgotten he was there. And Ellana didn’t know whether she felt like pounding against his chest repeatedly or hugging him tightly and never letting go.

“Ana?” He sat up, sounding more awake. “What’s wrong? Was it a bad dream?”

She nodded, unable to get out any words.

“Was it…of your sister?” he asked, a tentative note in his voice.

Ellana shook her head. As long as she lived, she’d never forget the sight of seeing Bri sprawled out on the ground. “It wasn’t just her. It was…you were there, too. Hanging, from one of the trees.”

By now, whenever Ellana’d had a nightmare this distressing, Thom would have wasted no time reaching out to her, enfolding Ellana into his arms, rock her and press comforting kisses to her head. But this time he just sat there, as if unsure of whether such touch would be welcome now. Sadly, he wasn’t wrong. Things were still fragile enough between them, like a fresh coat of paint that hadn’t had time to settle.

And the reminder of that fact just upset her more.

“Creators, how could you do it? How could you think of leaving me like that?” she asked accusingly, the words jamming in her throat.

His entire body seemed to deflate, as if knowing he didn’t have a good answer. “Ana…”

Suddenly feeling crowded by his presence, Ellana rose from the bed, walking over to the couch. Yet she was feeling too wired to sit, instead clutching at the back of it and leaning her weight on her arms. She heard rustling and the sound of footsteps from the bed, but they paused behind her.

“I never faulted you for not telling me about your past,” she said, her voice shaking. “How could I, when I was holding back about Bri?”

All she heard behind her was heavy breathing in response. And all Ellana could do was stare straight ahead at the unlit fireplace, wishing it was still lit so she could hear anything but stifling silence.

“But I believed once I told you, you’d open up too. That we could help each other move on.” Her hands began to shake as much as her voice. “But you never had any intention of telling me, did you? You’d rather died than I ever know!”

Ellana half-expected Thom to deny such a harsh charge. But he didn’t, saying simply, pain in his voice, “Yes.”

She finally whirled around to face Thom, fixing him with a glare. “Why? You didn’t trust I would understand?”

“It’s not like that,” he said, looking as if he was trying not to wilt under the heat of her gaze.

“Yes, it is,” she shot back. “You said it yourself in the prison. You didn’t want me to see you like that.”

She could recall the burning anger she’d felt, that he would dare to leave without saying a word and hope that he would just be able to disappear into the night, as if he’d never been a part of the Inquisition or their lives, as if their love had never been. An anger she could feel flaring inside her again.

Thom approached the couch, cautiously walking up to her. “I thought it was for the best.”

There was a slight plea in his voice and on his face, as if trying to make her understand. He reached out a hand for hers, but she pulled it away, letting it fall to her side.

“To just disappear? Like my sister did? Just because you left a note doesn’t make it any better!”

His eyes widened, then flooded with shame. He hung his head, in a position she had seen all too much of lately. “I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t!” she snapped. “You had to have known I would’ve found you. That I would’ve discovered the truth, anyway.”

Tears began to sting in her eyes, the image that had haunted her dreams since she’d left Val Royeaux flashing again before her eyes. “Do you even have any idea of what it would have done to me, to find you hanging from the gallows, without any explanation as to why?” 

The sight of Thom’s lifeless body swaying in the breeze, the last sight she would ever expect to see, the surprise of finding a corpse just like with Bri…she wouldn’t have survived the shock a second time.

“I didn’t want you to think less of me.” He raised his head, his regret-filled eyes meeting hers. A small part of her heart twinged at seeing such pain, until she reminded herself why it was there in the first place. “I never meant to hurt you, love.” 

The fact he called her _love_ for the first time since he’d been back should have calmed her, but instead only served to fan the flames of her agitation further and pushed her anger to its boiling point, the mark beginning to crackle in her palm. Her vow to maintain control barely registered in her mind, now consumed with the desire to lash out at the man standing before her.

No longer able to hold back, the hurt she’d felt since Val Royeaux fueling her words, she asked, “Then how could you’ve acted like what we had meant nothing? That _I_ meant nothing?”

Thom reared back as if he had been slapped in the face. But instead of hanging his head in morose silence as she expected, he answered back with as much force.

“This wasn’t just about you!” An animated look flared into his eyes, quickly banishing the regret that’d been there. “It was about saving an innocent man from a death that should’ve been mine!”

Under any other circumstance, she may have been taken back by his outburst, but in that moment she was ready to meet him head-on.

“Death isn’t the only means of redemption! _Nothing_ is worth your death,” she said, her heated tone taking on a hint of desperation. “Fenedhis, if you had just told me…we could have found another way to save him. You didn’t have to make that choice!”

“It was still _mine_ to bloody make!” Thom then positioned himself at the couch in the same way Ellana had earlier, hands digging into its back, facing away from her. With a shake of his head, he continued in a rough voice, “Sera told me what you said to her, about getting me out, no matter the negotiations’ outcome.”

Ellana crossed her arms, maintaining a defensive stance. She’d wondered when this would come up; she would not deny or apologize for it. “You really thought I wouldn’t have?”

“I thought you wouldn’t have been so ready to risk the alliance with Orlais. They could have seen freeing me as a provocation, declared war on the Inquisition!” He glanced over at her, a disapproving scowl marring his face. “Maker’s balls, Ana, why would you even think…?”

“Because I couldn’t let you die!” Ellana shouted, relief surprisingly coming over her at the outburst. “I know what I risked, I know what could have happened. But I already lost my sister needlessly; I couldn’t let it happen to you too, not when I could still save you.” Her voice choked up, but she forced herself to continue. “I meant what I said. I wasn’t ready to let you go. Not like that.”

Thom stared back at her in pure disbelief. Did he truly think so lowly of himself that he thought no one would mourn him? That Ellana wouldn’t be inconsolable at his loss, that she wouldn’t do whatever it took to save him from the gallows?

After seeing the broken man collapsed against the cell bars in the Val Royeaux dungeon, what he’d confessed to her the day before, she knew without doubt the answer to that question was “yes.”

Ellana turned away from him, needing to calm herself and gather her thoughts. She walked over to her desk, running her fingers over the leafs of the blooming elfroot growing in potted plants right by her. A new batch to be ready for their excursion out to the Exalted Plains in the coming week. That was what she needed now. A salve to put over the raw wound caused by Thom’s departure and his reveal.

But she realized this wasn’t something she could just slap paste on and hope for the best. If they had any hope of making things better between them, it would require much more than that. 

Ellana turned back around. Thom had sat down on the couch without making a sound. As she approached him, Ellana took note of his head buried in his hands. The angry side of her reveled in seeing it, in letting him hurt as much as he hurt her, but Ellana knew she couldn’t let that side win over. Or their relationship wouldn’t last. 

He didn’t look up when she sat down beside him, only doing so when Ellana placed a gentle hand on his head, tentatively running her fingers through his hair, in the combing motions she had done so often before.

“It’s gotten longer,” she noted quietly, needing to fill the silence with something, dispel the tension that had been released.

Thom’s eyes closed as she lightly scratched her fingers along his scalp, even now seeming to soothe him. “You shouldn’t be comforting me.”

Ellana paused at his words. “Do you want me to stop?”

She took his lack of response and movement as a sign to continue brushing her fingers through his hair, eventually moving to his beard.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Thom finally said, so softly Ellana almost didn’t hear it. “I almost didn’t. You were lying there, sleeping so soundly. So peacefully. It was my last look of you before I dressed. I knew if I turned back, I would’ve stayed.”

He faced her this time; it struck her how visible the strain of all this was on his face. “I couldn’t let another one of my men die. Enough blood’s been spilled because of me.”

Ellana ran her thumb along his cheek, under his healing cut. “I can understand that. Wanting to make up for your mistakes. I just wish you would have told me.”

“I know.” He rubbed at his face, as if that would be enough to clean his actions away. “I’m sorry, Ana. I went about everything wrong.”

She gently turned his head towards her. Their gazes locked, she pressed her hand against his chest, right over his heart, and guided his hand over hers with the other. “Not everything.”

Thom’s eyes brimmed with emotion, looking to become overwhelmed. His face was as open to her as the day of his judgment. Laying everything bare before her.

Letting go of their hands, she embraced him, her arms around his shoulders, her head resting against the side of his neck. He answered back, wrapping his arms tightly around her, his own head pressed against her shoulder. The embrace was bordering on being uncomfortably tight, but she wasn’t about to say anything to let go. Not wanting to end this feeling of warmth, of relaxing into each other. _This_ , thank the Creators, still hadn’t changed.

“I’m sorry, too,” she mumbled into his neck. “For what I said, about meaning nothing. That was a low blow.”

Thom shook his head. “I deserved it. The way I left…what else could you think?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her own, pulling her head up. “I said something similar to Bri. The last words I ever said to her before she…” Ellana trailed off with a shaky breath. “I never want our last words to be ones of anger.”

“They won’t be,” he said, Ellana hearing the vow in his voice.

“No more lies, then. We both have to be honest with each other, no matter how painful.”

He nodded, meeting her gaze intently. “No more lies.”

She could feel her eyes being to sting. Creators, her tears seemed endless that night. “And don’t _ever_ leave me like that again.”

Thom reached his hand out, running his fingers against her cheek in a feather light touch. “I’m here, as long as you want me.”

She leaned her face into his hand, nuzzling her cheek against it. Oh, how she had missed this.

“We’ll get through this, vhenan. Together,” she said, reaffirming the vow Thom had made to her at his judgment.

And when he ran his thumb along her lip, she understood even before she saw the question in his eyes. At her nod, he leaned in, his lips finding hers. With a kiss that was soft, slow, another reaffirmation of this promise between them.

The kiss ended sooner than she wanted it to, but she was too tired for it to lead any further.

“Let’s go back to bed and try to get some sleep.”

Thom nodded in agreement, the fatigue starting to become more visible over his face just like hers. Ellana stood, reaching for his hands, tugging at them. And he followed her up, back towards the bed. Instead of settling on separate sides, they did as they had often done before, pressing their bodies against the other, with Ellana on her side and Thom curling himself around her.

When he put his arm over her waist, Ellana twined her fingers through his, giving his hand what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

She slept through the rest of the night, not waking once.


	4. -4-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dissociation warning for content briefly in this chapter.

**-4-**

Every time they came to the Exalted Plains, the smell of sulfur filled the air. Blackwall wondered how long it would take for it to finally go away. 

Course it didn’t help that one of the Inquisition camps was set up near the remains of smouldering houses. As good an excuse as any to take some time to wash up.

The sun started to set over the rock formations, the wolf statue atop one framed in its light, another reminder of the day Blackwall had been dreading. The start of their return to Skyhold. 

To think he’d once thought of Skyhold as a home, one he’d look forward to coming back to after weeks on the road. Now it had come to feel as much a prison as the one he’d been freed from. He may have only been assaulted once, but the heckles, the angry stares, the frowning faces, and shunning from a sizeable chunk of Skyhold’s inhabitants still made being there unpleasant enough. And just before they’d left for the Exalted Plains, a Grey Warden spat on the ground before him and called him a pretender. It had been a relief to be away from all that for awhile. But that time was now coming to an end. 

At least he’d get to see Sera again, Blackwall thought as he made his way to the river. He had hoped she would come along, but she’d sprained her ankle -the result of one too many attempts at acrobatic movements while drunk- and Varric came in her place. Which hadn’t been bad; in fact Varric saw him as more dreadfully interesting than dreadfully boring. But Blackwall would take it. Better than being scolded and judged. He already had that with Solas. 

Blackwall knew he deserved all the criticisms Solas had thrown at him. About sowing death and destruction for his own gain instead of surviving it, wearing another’s skin, and running away from his actions instead of facing them dead on from the start. But they still stung.

It had been more difficult than he thought for people he respected and who had once thought of him as comrades in arms to now treat him with contempt and disgust. Especially Cassandra. She still wouldn’t even speak to him before he left. 

It was during these moments he could only thank the Maker that Ellana was still with him. He didn’t know how he would make it through all this without her, if she had shunned him, even though she would have had every right to. 

Speaking of, he spotted her by the bank, sitting near a formation of rocks along the shoreline and which commonly dotted the surrounding land. As Blackwall approached, he could catch the melodic sound of her humming, slow and, though he couldn’t be certain, almost solemn sounding. It wouldn’t be surprising if it was another Dalish song. Ellana’d once told him she didn’t like coming to the Exalted Plains, that she could feel the spilled blood of her ancestors long settled into the ground. Maybe there  _ was  _ something to those Dalish curses he’d been warned about, after all. 

He then wondered if he’d get to hear her sing it. But he hadn’t heard her sing, even hum, in front of him once since he’d been back. 

_ In time _ , he reassured himself. 

Blackwall cleared his throat, making his presence known. He knew from a fireball or two almost hitting his face early on the dangers of startling Ellana out in the open. “My lady?”

The humming immediately ceased at his call, and she turned her gaze onto him, a small smile on her face. 

“Thom.” He tried to catch himself from wincing, but was only partly successful. Fortunately, she didn’t say anything. “Needed me for something?”

“Just came to wash up.”

“I just got done myself,” Ellana said, gesturing to herself, her loose fitting shirt and trousers, her flat and damp hair. “Get the blood splatter out.” Her expression then shifted into a worried one. “Solas happen to come back?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet.” 

Ellana gave a troubled sigh. “Suppose we’ll see him at Skyhold, then.” 

Blackwall couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. He felt sympathy for Solas’ loss -even if the whole idea of such a personal connection with spirits escaped him- but it would make for a more pleasant trip back to Skyhold. 

“I’m sure he’ll come back,” he said, trying to dispel the worry in Ellana’s eyes.

This time she let out a tired sigh. “Given the past few weeks, I can’t help but question that.” 

Even though it wasn’t entirely directed at him, Blackwall couldn’t help but feel the slightest pang in his chest, knowing that despite the progress they made, they weren’t out of danger yet. 

Regret immediately flooded her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to be a slight at you.”

He shook his head, guilt now filling him. “You have every right for it to be.” 

Awkward silence fell on them, and Blackwall took the opportunity to go over to the river, undoing the toggles of his gambeson along the way, needing to do something other than standing there while one of them figured out something to say. 

The water was surprisingly warm, but then it had been unseasonably warm in general for mid-Drakonis. Regardless, it felt good to wash away the grime, sweat, and soot that had embedded itself into his face and hair. Blackwall thought Ellana might have left, but when he finished immediately noticed she was still sitting in the same spot, staring off contemplatively. Though that was never unusual. His lady was always deep in thought.

He realized with a start as he walked back over to her that that was the first time he’d thought of Ellana as  _ his _ lady since his return. He should have felt a sense of happiness at that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he still didn’t deserve the right. Blackwall suspected it would take a long time for him to truly believe it. 

“My lady?” he called to get her attention. “Do you wish to be alone?”

“No. I’d like your company,” Ellana said with such earnestness that there was no doubt.

Blackwall placed himself on the hard ground, careful not to aggravate a sore spot where Solas’ spirit friend turned pride demon struck him in the side. Nothing serious, but there’d likely be a bruise. 

Ellana seemed to pick up on the care he took, glancing at him with concern. “You’re still alright?”

Maker, how it’d always touch him, the way she would check on him after a tough battle, the deep concern and worry for his well-being. “I’m fine. I can take a hit.”

“Or three.” Ellana glanced down, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry you had to take them for me yesterday, too.”

Blackwall immediately knew what she was referring to, all the swarming undead and horrors clearing out Citadelle du Corbeau. “I’m still your shield.”

She frowned at his attempt to reassure her. “You shouldn’t have to be all the time. I hate the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

He knew she wouldn’t let go of the blame she placed on herself that easily. She was always like this whenever someone took hits or spells for her due to a misstep in combat or draining her mana too quickly. Despite her best efforts to improve and train, Blackwall recognized combat would never be Ellana’s specialty, but that was what he -and the rest of their companions- were there for, to provide support. Though the ever constant guilty part of him wondered how much she’d been training in the time he’d been away.

Blackwall clasped his hand over hers resting on the ground. “I’d take every single blow from Corypheus himself if it meant protecting you.”

She said nothing in reply, but she didn’t need to. The pained expression which crossed her face made it clear what she thought. Blackwall hated upsetting her, but he wouldn’t take it back. His lady’s life and safety were worth everything to him, and he had no second thought of throwing himself in harm’s way to guard them.

They fell into silence, listening to the lapping to the lapping of the water along the bank. Ellana’s head eventually found its way onto his shoulder; his arm wrapped around her waist in response. Though they had gotten back into this, to be as physically close to each other as possible, it still didn’t feel as casual as it did before. Blackwall wondered how long it would take for them to truly get used to this new normal they found themselves in. 

“It’s a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding almost content. 

“Yes, it is,” he replied, though he’d more likely use the word “peaceful,” especially with Ellana sitting beside him. 

She hummed thoughtfully. “Reminds me of the one I saw outside Wycome. It was one of my last nights with the clan. The sun was setting, and it reflected on the water like it is now. The only thing that really calmed my nerves before I set off on the ship to Ferelden.”

“Do you miss your time with them at all?” 

He felt the shake of her head against him. “Not like before the attack on Haven. I think I told you, I didn’t volunteer to go to the Conclave. The Keeper asked me to. Life with the clan, being First…it’s all I’d ever known. Then everything changed with becoming Inquisitor.” She glanced up at him, the corners of her mouth lifting in a soft smile. “And us.”

Blackwall squeezed her waist in reply. Though it would have been kinder, spared her added pain, he couldn’t help being thankful things had fallen into place the way they had, that she had become Inquisitor and they had been given this chance because of it.

“I’ll always treasure them, the time I had with them,” she continued. “And I would still like to see them again once this is all over. But my place is here now.”

Ellana then pushed her head off his shoulder, meeting Blackwall’s gaze in a way that commanded his attention. Easy to see why anyone would follow her anywhere, do anything at her will. 

“I wrote to the Keeper, about my decision. Regarding you, and us. I thought she deserved to hear from me directly this time.”

Given everything else he’d been worried about, he hadn’t given the approval of her clan any consideration. But he should have. His stomach churned as he thought back to her clansman Camlen’s warning when they were out in Emprise du Lion, of their Keeper’s disapproval at not being told about him and Ellana together. Maker bloody knew what he ended up telling her.

Ellana may not have shared much about her clan, but he knew enough that she considered their Keeper to be like a second mother to her. If she wrote back still expressing disapproval -Blackwall would be amazed if it was anything else- he couldn’t help question what it would do to Ellana and what it could mean for them. Funny that he would be concerned about that, when she’d shown a willingness to risk a war for him, but he couldn’t curb the anxious feelings rising within him.

“How do you think it’ll go over?” he asked, trying not to let his worry enter his voice.

“I…honestly don’t know. A lot’s changed since I first wrote her about us,” Ellana admitted softly. “I told her about all the good you’ve done for the Inquisition, for me. That’ll go a long way, I think.” She made it sound more hopeful than certain, and that did nothing to build up his confidence about the Keeper approving of him, of them. “Show you’re more of a hero than the villain many are making you out to be.” 

His eyes closed, overcome by the conviction in her words. “They’re right. I am no hero.” Ellana opened her mouth, likely in protest, when Blackwall held up his hand. “Don’t, Ana, I’m not.”

That silenced her momentarily, but not for long. “Do you remember? One of our first conversations back in Haven? About me as the Herald, that you thought I would be human?”

“Of course,” he said, the embarrassment rising within him, just as fresh as when he’d stuck his foot in his mouth the first time.

“You told me that it’s what you do, and how you do it, that’s important. Regardless of who or what you are, your deeds are what matter.” She cradled his hand, running her thumb over the knuckles as he’d so often done with hers. “That’s what I see now. And that’s what I’m going to make the Keeper and the clan see.” 

“A lifetime’s worth of good deeds won’t be enough to make up for letting those children die,” he said sadly, burdened with the knowledge that no matter what he did, his crimes would always be with him. That he’ll always remember the surprise on Callier’s and his retainer’s faces as they were struck with arrows and blades, the rhythmic pounding of axes against the carriage door, the screams of Callier’s wife and children for mercy. And that song, the one of mockingbirds and dead things on the top of the hill, clearly being sung in a young girl’s voice as the carriage approached. “For letting my men die.”

Ellana’s hand moved to cup his cheek tenderly in her palm. “The fact you’re trying still means something.”

Perhaps it did. Perhaps it would have to be enough that he was trying to be better than he was, because it was the only thing left to him now. He couldn’t make peace with the Calliers; there was nothing but their ghosts left, and they would forever haunt him. But to help others, to start making amends to the few of his men who had escaped, to the family members of those who hadn’t; that was the only way forward. 

He leaned into her touch, sinking against her as the weight of his atonement came crashing down on him. And Ellana let him, wrapping her arms around him as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. He breathed in the remnants of elfroot blossoms soap on her skin, trembling as her fingers scratched at his scalp, her hand keeping him right where he was. The fact she accepted this broken part of him, after he spent so long trying to pretend away its existence…it was overwhelming, indescribable. 

Out of habit, he nuzzled his head further against her neck, his lips brushing against her wet skin. But then he found himself planting further kisses along the side of her neck, sensing the change in her pulse as he kissed her there, how quick it seemed. And when he paused at the curve of her cheek, to keep himself from continuing further and apologize to Ellana for presuming, he found her glazed eyes locked right on him.

They both leaned in for the kiss, and he swallowed the pleased moan he’d felt building in his throat. The only kisses they’d shared since his return had been gentle, fleeting, chaste. But Blackwall felt the difference the moment their lips touched, the spark between them, that had been missing since their last night in the loft. 

Blackwall reluctantly broke away, taking in a deep gasp of much needed air, running his thumb across her reddened lower lip as he did so. “Ana?”

He wanted to be certain, where Ellana wanted this to go. And he was still acutely aware of how close they were to camp, how easy it would be for anyone to come upon or spot them. 

But she caught his wrist, kissing the inside of it, almost as if an affirmation. “Yes.” Then if he needed any further confirmation, she guided his hand to rest over her breast. “Yes.”

That was all the encouragement Blackwall needed to press his lips against hers once more. And Ellana answered, her tongue finding its way past his lips. Their kisses became harder, more insistent, the flood gates finally opened. His hands roamed all over, over her breasts, across her back, finally settling on her ass, giving it squeezes in sync with their kisses. In turn, Ellana’s hands were no less busy, finding their way back through his hair and beard, scratching at his scalp, then coming to rest on the sides of his neck. 

It had been too long. With every shift of their bodies against the other, every whimper and gasp she made, he could feel himself responding. 

They fell back onto the ground, Ellana splayed out across the dried out grass before him, her brown hair fanned out, her face flushed and hazy emerald eyes staring desirously up at him. Maker, he’d missed this beautiful sight.

His lips found hers again as his body came to rest between her legs, mindful of his weight as he had always been. But just as his fingers slid down to the hem of her shirt, he noticed something that stopped his hand mid-push up. Her arms were at her side, and her body, which had been relaxed only moments before, was tense under him. 

Blackwall glanced up, and confirmed that it wasn’t just his imagination. Her head was turned away from him and her eyes had closed, but not from pleasure, of losing herself in the ecstasy of a lover’s touch. Exactly the opposite. 

“Ana? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine,” she hurriedly said, eyes opening, though she still refused to look at him. “It’s nothing, I just...” She bit down on her lip, a torturous moment passing before she repeated, barely above a whisper, “I’m fine.”

But Blackwall shook his head. “You’re not fine.” Though she didn’t say it, he sensed it had to do with him. And the thought of that, the reminder of his mistakes, was enough to quell the desire that had risen within him. 

He gingerly set himself beside her, still trying to catch his breath. “Too soon?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even as possible. Blackwall could have easily let this go, but Ellana was right; if they were to truly rebuild what they had, it had to be built on honesty, not lingering resentment or pretty lies. 

She nodded, pulling her shirt back down and rising up from the ground. “I thought back to the last time we…” Ellana trailed off in a sigh, one that spoke of frustration and hurt. 

She brought her knees up to her chest. “Then I remembered afterwards, when you held me, stroked my hair as I fell asleep. I thought you’d be there like you always were.”

_ And then I wasn’t _ , Blackwall heard the discontinued thought. 

“My lady…” he began, not entirely knowing what to say, but knowing he needed to say something.

She held up a hand. “No, it’s alright. Guess I just need more time.” Ellana sent him a small smile, but it was one of sadness, of bitterness. 

And why should it be anything else, when he left her?

He knew it would be too much, to expect things to right themselves barely two weeks out from his judgment. But during moments like this, he couldn’t help fear the damage he’d done had been cut too deep. That no matter how many times he expressed regret, how much he gave to prove that he would stay at her side, that he wouldn’t abandon her again...none of it would be enough. 

But Blackwall knew he had to try. Or they wouldn’t last. And if there’s one thing he couldn’t bear after all this was losing her, not when she had deemed him worthy of this second chance.

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “I’m not giving up on this,” he said quietly yet as fervently he could.

This time, Ellana’s smile was more genuine, and it warmed Blackwall’s heart to see. 

“I know,” she said just as quietly; her tone assured him that neither was she. 

They stayed out there until night fell, Blackwall cherishing the silence and Ellana’s resumed weight against his shoulder. 

* * *

Their return trip was fortunately as uneventful as their departing one. The civil war may have ended, but the Freemen were still an active threat in the area, not to mention Corypheus and his Red Templars. Even common bandits looking to make quick coin. The more the Inquisition’s power and influence grew, the greater the target on them, on Ellana. It wouldn’t take much to learn of the Inquisitor’s travel route -a bribe here, tracking there, things Thom Rainier had been all too familiar with- and they could easily be spotted by the identifiable caravans with the Inquisition insignia. 

All it took was one careless mistake, one or two assassins to spring a trap and get a lucky strike in. Something he also knew too well about. The thought of Ellana being attacked in such a way, so similar to what he set upon Callier and his family, had always spurred him to keep a watchful eye out on their journeys across Ferelden and Orlais. And Skyhold too, if he was being honest, since the attempts on Bull’s and the lady Josephine’s lives. 

They arrived back at Skyhold in the afternoon, the courtyard surprisingly empty. Typically more people milled about this time of day, particularly on a day when the Inquisitor was coming back in residence. But Blackwall didn’t mind or care for the reason. Less of a spectacle than he had already made of himself. 

He did spot Josephine waiting for them at the stairs, as she always did whenever Ellana returned. It was something they had established early on at Ellana’s insistence. She always liked being immediately briefed on the goings-on while she’d been away, and if there was anything urgent she needed to address. 

He didn’t catch most of what Josephine said, but whatever the news, he noticed with worry how it caused Ellana to freeze in place.

Blackwall cautiously approached the two of them. “My lady, what is it?”

His call seemed to break her out of a daze, and she rushed up the steps. Blackwall immediately became concerned, reminded of Emprise du Lion when she’d been like this, when she’d thought her sister’s token lost. Not bothering to ask Josephine what she’d said, he instead followed Ellana as she made her way up the second set of stairs and headed straight towards Josephine’s office. 

Ellana didn’t get far through the door before coming to a halt. Once inching himself past her, he took note of a lone figure facing the fireplace, who turned at the sound of Blackwall closing the door. An older woman, older than himself judging by her gray hair and wrinkles around solemn, serious brown eyes that stared back at them. But what took more of Blackwall’s notice was the vallaslin, so similar in design to Ellana’s. The same swirls, the same separate pattern on the chin, the same faded black ink. Clearly one of the Dalish, likely one of Ellana’s clan by how she took off. 

“Da’len.”

And it was upon her greeting that Blackwall realized who this was, the only person it could possibly be. Suddenly the thought of whatever verbal insults or physical abuse that may come his way by vengeful chevaliers or slighted Grey Wardens and Inquisition members paled in comparison to the arrival of this Dalish woman standing before them. 

“Keeper.”

_ …Fuck. _


	5. -5-

**-5-**

Once again, Ellana had no clue what to say. 

She always prided herself in finding the right words, to comfort another, to deescalate a tense situation. But the past few weeks had proved Ellana didn’t always have them at the ready. And as she stared at the Keeper, her mentor and mother-figure who she hadn’t seen in over a year, she knew this was another moment where they wouldn’t come easily. 

It immediately struck her how much the Keeper had seemed to age, as if they had been parted for over a decade instead of a year, how pronounced the sag of her skin, the fatigue on her face. She couldn’t help worry the strain of the last year had taken its toll.

The Keeper seemed to pick up on Ellana’s study of her, commenting with a faint teasing smile, “You look as if you’ve seen a spirit, da’len. I assure you I’ve not aged so much quite yet.”

That spurred Ellana forward, catching the Keeper in a tight hug. She immediately smelled the earthy and herbal scents that always clung to the Keeper, filling her with a familiar sense of comfort as it so often had before. 

The Keeper’s hand came to rest on the back of her neck. “It’s good to see you, Ellana.”

Her throat and chest tightened, at hearing that calm and serene voice say her name again. Ellana bit down inside her cheek, to keep herself from tearing up. There had been enough shed lately.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ellana admitted, pulling away. Suddenly, a wave of irrational panic crashed over her. “Is everyone alright? Has there been more trouble?”

“Relax, da’len, everything is fine. The clan is alright. More than alright. A huge weight has been lifted off our shoulders now that there is no longer fear of an imminent attack. The reinforcements you sent made sure of that.” 

Ellana was relieved beyond words to hear it, though that did raise another question. “So what brings you here?”

“With the situation in Wycome finally settled, I thought it was more than time for a visit. If I recall, you did extend an invitation to me.”

“Yes…yes, of course!” Ellana said, the offer coming back to her, feeling like a lifetime ago since she’d sent that letter out in Emprise du Lion. “Let me…let me show you around. You can meet my companions, and my other advisers. And you can meet…”

Ellana turned around, suddenly remembering Thom was there, who currently stood awkwardly by the door, eyes darting between them and the floor, as if he felt out of place. And who looked ready to either bolt or be sick in the middle of the office as they approached, possibly both, but to his credit and her relief, he did neither. Ellana was slightly sorry for putting him on the spot like this, but it would only make things more awkward if she didn’t introduce him. 

“Keeper, this is…” She paused, sudden uncertainty washing over her on what name to call him. 

“Thom Rainier,” the Keeper said, answering the question for her. “I suspected as much.” 

Her voice had taken on the familiar level tone of diplomacy, presenting herself as neutral and concealing her true feelings. But given what Camlen had told her about the Keeper’s displeasure at not being initially told about Ellana’s relationship with Thom, unease stirred within her at what the Keeper currently felt. She shuddered to think of the rumors the Keeper and the clan had heard about him since Val Royeaux.

Thom’s eyes darted over to her, as if silently asking her how to act. Ellana tried to appear encouraging, sending him a small supportive smile, but she was just as caught off guard by this as he was. 

She thought they’d have more time before she’d have him meet the Keeper. They were in a better place, certainly. Going out on the road again helped, to be at each other's sides, fighting and watching each other's backs (or more like Thom acting as her shield). But the awkward moment between them that last night showed they were still not on solid enough ground to have him be introduced to the one woman she wanted approval of their relationship the most.

“Madame Keeper,” he finally greeted with a slight bow. 

“So formal,” she remarked, with the slightest air of amusement, which slightly loosened the anxious knot forming in Ellana’s stomach. “There’s no need for that. I’m not nobility, even if some of the People may treat me as such. Keeper, or Keeper Deshanna, will suffice.” 

Thom nodded, though the uneasy look still hadn’t entirely left his face. “My lady Ellana has spoken quite highly of you.”

There was a time Ellana had wondered how Thom could so easily put on a formal charm when needed or the bits of knowledge he’d let slip about court etiquette, if he had just been a soldier. Now she understood full well the world he’d been in before and seemingly had no interest in leaving. Hard to imagine him as that courtly captain, only caring for coin and prestige and advancing in the Game. Who had been willing to commit the heinous crime that he did. But, as she’d realized early on, it was a good thing she couldn’t envision him as that man. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” the Keeper’s voice bringing Ellana back. “She strives to see the best in everyone. As she has of you.” 

Ellana immediately sensed the shift in mood, like a brewing storm gathering overhead. The Keeper said it calmly, ever calmly, but she also heard the searching note, the slightest uncertainty in her tone. As if wondering the dreaded question:  _ why _ ?

By the growing nervousness emanating from him and shifting around, Ellana could see Thom sensed something, too. And Ellana decided she needed to guide them down another path. 

“Supper will be soon,” Ellana managed to say as evenly as possible. “I need to meet with my other advisers first, then I can take you around for a tour.” 

“I should very much like that, da’len,” she said, to Ellana’s relief. “Shall we go, then?” 

Ellana’s eyes darted over to Thom. “Could you give me a moment?” 

The Keeper nodded. “Of course. I shall wait inside the hall.”

Once the Keeper had walked away and shut the door behind her, Ellana let out the nervous breath she’d been holding in. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that. I had no idea she’d be coming. Not this soon.”

“It’s alright, my lady, I know you didn’t.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “How, er…how do you think it went?”

Ellana could answer that it went as well as it could. But if Thom had a hope of winning the Keeper over, he needed to have that clearer picture.

“I think she’s trying to get a sense of you, to see for herself what I told her about you. She’ll probably want to talk to you in private at some point. So just keep being nice and…”

She was about to say "Just be yourself," but who was he, really? How much of him had actually been Thom Rainier and how much had been living up to what Warden Blackwall had been? 

Putting those questions to the side, Ellana cupped his face, gently brushing her thumb against his cheek and instead finishing, “Being the man I fell in love with.”

Thom answered back by wrapping his fingers around her wrist and a gloved caress of her knuckles, but his face still contained uncertainty. 

“I’ll see you later tonight, vhenan.”

She then made to leave, but not before getting in a quick kiss. Whether to reassure him or encourage herself, she wasn’t entirely sure. 

* * *

It took longer than she hoped to meet with Cullen and Leliana, to discuss their updates on operations she’d approved before her trip, on the Arbor Wilds, and preliminaries for raiding Samson’s base of operations at the Shrine of Dumat. 

It was always a busy time upon her return if she arrived back in Skyhold before dark. Ellana knew she could have stopped at any point, told people that she would come to them once she had settled, but she had always preferred to be caught up to speed on everything before she had time to rest. Else there was a chance she might just sit or lay in her quarters for the rest of the day. Strange that travel would so easily drain her now, when she’d spent most of her life constantly on the move. But then she never had to exert herself fighting Red Templars, bandits, Freemen, or demons, only the occasional wild animal. Or had the fate of a continent resting on her shoulders.

After the meeting finished, she met up with the Keeper, who was waiting in the main hall as she’d said. Ellana was still able to cover the garden area -which the Keeper’s guest quarters overlooked- and the towers along the ramparts. When they came back to the main hall and noticed people beginning to mill about in preparation for supper, she decided to show the Keeper her quarters next, as she had yet to change out of her travel clothes. 

This also gave them the chance to speak privately and uninterrupted for a little while. Which Ellana was partly dreading. 

The Keeper did not give any indication that she was there for more than a visit, as she’d said, but Ellana had no doubt the real reason she had come to Skyhold. And Ellana was still uncertain as to how prepared she was to answer the questions she knew the Keeper wanted to ask about Thom and their relationship.

“So what it’s like being on the city council?” Ellana asked. She didn’t want to spend the long trek up to her quarters in silence, and risk giving the Keeper an opening to talk about her and Thom. 

“Not much different from being Keeper, I suppose. Except now I’m making decisions for an entire city, not just a clan. But I’m not the only one doing so.”

“Camlen said you were also leading the city elves.”

“I’m afraid that’s giving me far too much credit,” the Keeper said, modesty clear in her voice. “I merely offer counsel to their Hahren when asked for. I do not wish to impose myself upon the elves of Wycome. Though most of those whom I have met do not seem to see my presence as such.”

Ellana was not surprised. The Keeper had always been open-minded, not seeing Dalish culture as something superior to their city elf brethren, or even dismissive of other races and their own cultures. Ellana had taken those lessons to heart, and they had served her well in the position she now found herself in, being around people who came from different races and backgrounds, with different experiences and opinions. 

“How is Camlen doing?”

“Doing well,” the Keeper replied, a curious note in her voice. Not unexpected, considering how Ellana and him hadn’t hid their dislike of each other, though they had parted more amicably in Emprise du Lion than Ellana would’ve ever anticipated. “And protective as always. He rarely leaves either his family’s or my sides. He offered to come with me, but I did not think it fair to have him come out here again. Nor am I incapable of defending myself.” 

“Of course not.” Ellana rarely saw her use offensive spells; her focus had always been more on healing. But Ellana had trained with her enough to know the strength of her magic, the force she could be when she needed to. “And Marel and Neras, and the children? How are they, after everything that’s happened?”

“As well as can be expected,” the Keeper said softly. “Noranni is a bit reluctant to stray too far, and Athros is more quiet than usual, but I suspect things will be better for them when their new sibling arrives. Did Camlen tell you Marelwyn’s expecting?”

“Yes, he did. I’m happy for her.” Marelwyn always had a way with children -even when they’d been barely past childhood age themselves- with her warm and patient demeanor. She had been a wonderful mother to Athros and Noranni; Ellana had no doubt she’d be for this little one, too. “And I’m glad the stress didn’t cause her any trouble with the baby.”

“As am I,” the Keeper said, an air of ease coming over her. “It was a uncertain time, and that did lead to some fearful days. Not just with the children, but the entire clan.” 

“Things should be better now,” Ellana said, reassuringly. 

“I’m hopeful they will be, da’len.” She then paused at the landing, her hands flying to the satchel at her hip. “While it’s crossed my mind, the children wanted me to give you something.” 

Before Ellana could ask what it was, the Keeper pulled out the item in question. The flowers were a bit squashed, and a few had begun to dry out, but there was still no mistaking the flower crown the Keeper held in her hands.

“I told them that it may not last the journey here, but they were determined. They were very excited by your note. It was all Noranni could talk about when they received it.”

Ellana took the flower crown, the stems rough on her hands, gratitude coursing through her. “It’s beautiful. I’ll write them again to thank them.” 

It heartened her to think that they still cared enough to make her such a meaningful gift, even if Ellana hadn’t corresponded much. Even to the Keeper, though she’d always expressed nothing but understanding for it. Ellana had resolved to be better about writing, as she’d been in the early days. Whatever her life was now, the path she’d chosen, Ellana didn’t want the clan to ever think she’d forgotten about them.

“I’m sure they would love that, da’len.”

They fell into silence again for the last two flights, Ellana opening the door to her quarters for the Keeper.

“Very spacious, and welcoming,” the Keeper noted as they made it to the top.

“A bit overwhelming the first night here, especially the bed,” Ellana said, gesturing over to it. “I’d never slept on something so soft before. It took awhile to get used to. But I’ve grown fond of this place. All of Skyhold, really.”

The Keeper stepped further into the room. “And two balconies.”

“Yes,” Ellana said, following behind her, noting the already lit fireplace. Someone must have come up early in preparation for her arrival. “It’s nice in the morning or after a long day to just stand out there, let everything go for a bit.”

“I assume you’ve kept up with your meditations?” the Keeper asked expectantly. 

“I’ve been trying to,” Ellana said, her voice shrinking a bit, the all too familiar feeling of the chastised pupil coming over her. “I was better about it when all this started. Before becoming Inquisitor.”

The Keeper’s face softened. “They did treat you well before, then?”

Ellana knew what the Keeper meant. “There was distrust right after the destruction of the Conclave. I don’t fault anyone for it; I was the only one to survive, and I had no explanation as to why.” She lifted up her left hand. “But I proved myself and people quickly started treating me with less suspicion.” 

The Keeper extended her hand, gently catching Ellana’s in hers, examining the faint line of green running along the palm. “Do you know how you got this now?”

She nodded, seeing no reason to conceal this information from the Keeper; Ellana trusted that she would keep it safe. “Corypheus’ spell went wrong. I interrupted some ritual he was performing with an Elven orb. I grabbed it, and it bestowed the Anchor onto me. Then I ended up in the Fade.”

The Keeper studied her carefully, concern growing on her face. “This orb? It’s an artifact of the People?”

“That’s what Solas told me, that it’s a foci for harnessing the power of the Evanuris. He seemed pretty certain. You could ask him about it, when he returns.” Though Ellana had no idea when that might be, and if the Keeper would still be around when Solas returned. 

The Keeper hummed thoughtfully and released Ellana’s hand. “It would make sense. Whatever created the Breach would have required substantial magical power.” The Keeper then ran her thumb over her sylvanwood ring. Ellana remembered being fascinated yet unnerved by the depiction of Fen’Harel on the ring as a child, even after the Keeper had explained to her its purpose. A reminder to protect the clan from him. “What troubles me is how this artifact would have fallen into a darkspawn magister’s hands.”

“That crossed my mind, too.” For all his knowledge on the orb, Solas hadn’t seemed to have any idea on how Corypheus may have obtained it. “Hopefully we’ll get more answers when we travel to the Temple of Mythal.”

“I understand it is not priority, but be sure to take note of what you find and recover any artifact you can. If this is truly one of the temples, there are not many that remain. Such ancient knowledge would be invaluable to the People, not just the clan. And be very wary as you journey through; there is no telling what defenses may still remain.”

“Of course. But we won’t be going for awhile, we still have a lot to plan for it.”

The Keeper seemed satisfied with that, and nodded. She moved over to the fireplace, hands raised to take in its heat, and Ellana decided to go ahead and change out of her travel clothing. 

Once she set the twins’ flower crown down, she retrieved clothes from the dresser and went to the water closet. Not out of some sense of modesty; nakedness was not something to be shy about in the clan, especially as Keeper or First treating wounds or delivering babies. But out of need to wash up, and remove the grim of travel off some part of her, least till she could take a bath. 

Ellana came back out after a few minutes, more refreshed after that simple change of clothes and splashing water on her face. She noticed the Keeper at one of the bookshelves, looking at the staff resting up against it.

The Keeper turned to her. “You still don’t take it with you, then?”

Ellana shook her head, walking over to the Keeper’s side. “No. I’d rather it be here, where I know it’s safe.”

Gentleness appeared in the Keeper’s gaze. “I heard you almost lost your sister’s token.”

“Yes,” Ellana said, fingers already in her pocket, fiddling with the token. Not wanting to remember those frightening hours, of thinking it lost in the snow forever. “One of my companions, Sera, ended up finding it.” Which Ellana would forever be grateful for. 

“Still, it’s a powerful staff. Your mother would’ve rather seen it used than collecting dust.”

“I don’t want to risk damaging it. Not when this is all I have left of her,” Ellana said softly.

The Keeper nodded, understanding in her eyes, and turned her attention back to the staff, running a hand along the wood carvings at the top, as if to take in whatever presence of Ellana’s mam was still in the staff. 

“She would be proud of you.”

Ellana smiled appreciatively at the Keeper’s words. She liked to believe so too. But memories of her mother had become fuzzier over twenty years, dying during Ellana’s most formative years. 

The Keeper’s face shifted, eyes lowering and clouding over as a drawn contemplative sadness overtook her. After her death, the Keeper didn’t speak much about Ellana’s mother, but Ellana remembered enough to know how close they were, the depth of their friendship. 

Moments passed in silence before the Keeper turned to face her again, a more neutral look now in place. “Shall we journey back downstairs for supper? Unless there is something you wish to ask of me?”

Even after all these years, it never ceased to amaze Ellana how easily the Keeper could read her, could see the question growing in her eyes before she even had the chance to ask. 

Ellana fiddled with her hands as she asked, “So how long are you planning to stay?”

“Looking to get rid of me already, da’len?” 

“No, of course not!” Ellana said, wanting to make it clear that she didn’t feel otherwise, even though the Keeper did not act offended or hurt by the question. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want…it’s just…”

She could have easily dropped the issue; the Keeper seemed as if she was willing to humor her in not bringing it up. Ellana still would rather they not have this conversation at all, but she now realized she couldn’t have them go downstairs without having it. 

There was no sense in drawing this out any longer. 

"We both know you didn't come all this way for a visit, Keeper. What really brings you here?"

A wisp of a regretful smile crossed the Keeper’s face. “As clever as always.”

The Keeper's arms then folded behind her, gaze steadily fixed on her in the way Ellana knew meant she was ready to address a serious issue at hand. 

"There is a matter which I must discuss with you. Have needed to discuss in person for quite some time. And you know what that matter is, da'len."

She’d thought about what she was finally going to say to the Keeper, had planned it all out before Thom had left to save Mornay. But things were much different now. Not that Ellana would have been able to remember them, even if they weren’t. 

"Keeper, I...I was going to tell you. About me and Thom. I-I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

Though Ellana knew that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t planned to keep it from her, but Ellana had been delaying it, wanting to put off this conversation, for fear of where it would lead.

"That is not the reason I'm here. Your note from Camlen explained quite clearly your reason for waiting on this news. If that had been the extent of it, I would have waited to discuss it until this darkspawn magister threat was eliminated." 

The swift relief that flooded Ellana at her words was short-lived once the Keeper reached into her side satchel again, this time pulling out a scroll, which Ellana noted still had faint wax from the Inquisition seal stamped on it. "Until I received this recent letter from you." 

The one where she told the Keeper her judgment on Thom. The one where she told the Keeper that she was taking Thom back.

Ellana turned to face her desk, resting her palms flat against it, back turned to the Keeper. Creators, this was already proving to be harder than she thought it’d be. 

"When I heard he had revealed himself to be a murderer and traitor and turned himself in, I truly thought this the end of things. But then you had your ambassador put pressure on those in power in Orlais to set him free." 

"Concessions were made on both sides. Josephine knew what would have been too high a price for us to pay, regardless of my personal interests." She continued to face away from the Keeper as the false words flew from her lips, knowing the Keeper’s reaction if she revealed the truth and that she’d be unable to conceal it from her face. Though Ellana also knew there was a chance the Keeper would still see through it, hear the lie in her voice. "And the arrangement was that he be turned over to Inquisition custody. Upon which the decision of what to do with him was mine." 

If the Keeper did notice anything, she did not point it out, instead noting, "And yet you set him free, without serving any type of punishment.”

"Having to live as himself again and making amends for what he did is punishment enough." 

"He was meant to join the Grey Wardens, was he not? Why did you not send him there?"

"I want the choice to come from him, not me,” Ellana argued. 

"Or perhaps you do not want him to leave."

She finally turned to face the Keeper at that, immediately noting the way the corners of the Keeper’s mouth had tightened into a disapproving purse until there was little lip left, and the way her back had straightened like an arrow.

Like it or not, prepared for it or not, there was only one way forward now. 

"No. I do not."

The frown on the Keeper’s face grew, a palpable tension growing between them. But the Keeper had always taught her to work through differences and talk an issue through to come to a consensus on both sides. Ellana would do exactly that. 

“I still love him, Keeper. No matter if he’s Blackwall or Thom Rainier. It’ll take time to rebuild, but neither of us want to give up what we had. Our love was never a lie.”

The Keeper’s frown, however, did not lessen at her words. “You are certain of his intentions?”

“Very.”

“And you are certain he has hidden nothing else from you?”

“I didn’t anticipate learning everything about his past all at once. But I know the man he is now, one committed to making things better. I won’t pretend what he did didn’t hurt me, Keeper. But he’s still a good man, and I…” Her voice wobbled. “I can’t let him go.”

Ellana would never minimize or justify it, the way he left, the lies he shouldn’t have told, the actions he committed in the name of gold. But that didn’t change the fact there was good in him now, that he was still her vhenan, regardless of his name. And by the Dread Wolf, if she had to devote her entire being to saving the world, she needed something that was for her. 

The Keeper was silent, staring at her as if looking into her very soul. After a moment, the Keeper averted her gaze, settling down on the couch, and focused on the crackling fireplace instead. 

“Have you truly thought this through, da’len?” she finally asked. “If you go down this path…”

"I won't be First anymore. I understand that."

“It’s not just that.” The Keeper stood up as fast as she had sat down. “You are the Inquisitor, the Herald. You must lead by example, to place all personal desires aside for the good of the people you lead.”

“I know my duty,” Ellana said, a defensive edge in her voice. “But I know my heart. Is that not also worth something?”

“It’s not a question of worth, you know that. Your focus must be on the tasks you face, to devote yourself entirely to your cause.”

How the Keeper sounded so much like Thom, back when he’d been trying to dissuade her from being together. Course, as she had discovered, duty hadn’t been the only reason for his reluctance. 

Ellana wasn’t surprised by the Keeper’s reasoning. After all, she had predicted it, and wrestled with this at Thom’s judgment. Creators, even back to when she realized how she felt about him. Whether her duty as Inquisitor should outweigh her desires as Ellana the person.

She had always admired the Keeper’s dedication, of never wavering in her duty to the clan, to be the leader they needed her to be. But Ellana had also come to understand what Bri had: there was more to life than one entirely dedicated to duty. Other things were just as -if not, more- important. That were worth holding onto. And Thom was more than worth it to her. 

Ellana watched the Keeper approach her by her desk, glancing down at the twins’ flower crown and the carving of one that rested beside it, picking it up.

“The detail on this is quite beautiful,” she remarked, twisting it around in her hands.

"Thom made that for me. For my birthday." Ellana remembered how happy she’d been when she received the present, immediately placing the flower crown carving on her desk when they’d returned from their afternoon getaway to the mountains, wanting it in a place where she could always see it. After her return from Val Royeaux, she’d hidden it away in one of the drawers, unable to bear looking at it. Only before their trip to the Exalted Plains did she finally take it out again, and look at it without anger and sorrow overshadowing what happiness it gave her. 

The Keeper studied it for a moment longer, then placed it back down. The silence grew again, threatening to widen the gulf that they now found between them. 

“You’ve built quite the organization for yourself, da’len,” the Keeper finally said.

“It’s not for me,” Ellana said. “Never has been.”

The Keeper turned back to her, an urgent look on her face. “Which is why you  _ must _ end what you have with Ser Rainier.”

Before with the clan, Ellana would have deferred to the Keeper. Because she didn’t want to disappoint her, because she thought the Keeper knew best. 

But she wouldn’t this time.

“I won’t do that, Keeper. Not unless we can’t work through things.” 

Ellana tried not to let the look of disapproval on the Keeper’s face cut through her, but it still stung. She would not waver, though. If Thom’s revelations hadn’t turned her away, the Keeper’s protests wouldn’t either. 

“Very well,” the Keeper said, momentary hope rising within Ellana that she got through to her, only to be dashed a moment later. “I’m not ready to drop the issue, but it’s been long days for both of us. We can resume this discussion later, after food and rest.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Ellana said as the Keeper started to move towards the stairs.

The Keeper paused, looking back at her with that serious expression. “It’s your decision, da’len. All I ask is that you’re certain it’s the right one.”

It was a momentary victory, but as Ellana walked with the Keeper, she knew it was one that would not last long. 


	6. -6-

**-6-**

Blackwall awoke in the morning feeling restless. Not a surprise, with how he’d tossed and turned, wrestling with his thoughts over the arrival of Ellana’s Keeper. Ellana hadn’t said much more the night before, but he could see the same uncertainty in her eyes that brewed inside him, over the likelihood of the Keeper’s approval.

Needing to do something, he decided to take a walk on the mountain pass, something he hadn’t done since he left. Maybe find some flowers for Ellana along the way.

She was still asleep when he got up to dress. It wasn’t often he was awake and moving before her. Maker knew how much she needed the sleep. Which was why he hated waking her before he left. Blackwall’d never seen the need to do that before. But that was _before_ , when she trusted him not to run off. He didn’t want to cause her any more distress than he already had.

Ever the trained soldier, he didn’t want to go out unprepared, even for a short walk. Once outside, he stopped by the armory, thankfully empty. But after a scan of the equipment, he did not spot his sword or shield. The thought crossed his mind that someone may have taken them until it came to him that he’d left them in the barn from the day before.

He quickly made his way over, encountering two people coming towards the stairs, turning his head so he did not see their expressions at his approach, and passing them without incident. When he entered the barn, he caught the footsteps off to the side, towards the stables. He expected it to be Dennet; it wasn’t unusual for him to start his chores just after sunrise. But a quick glance made Blackwall realize it wasn’t Dennet. In fact, it was the one person who made him want to turn right back around before she even had a chance to spot him.

Blackwall knew he could have easily gone back to the armory and grabbed another sword, but he’d just gotten into the feel of using this one again. And it had sentimental value, a gift from Alistair delivered shortly after Adamant. However much Blackwall didn’t deserve to keep it, he also knew he needed to, serve as another reminder of the man he strived to be.

He made every effort to keep his back to the entrance, intent on reaching for his sword resting against the table. It was simply a matter of moving slowly to the other side, lightening his normally heavy footsteps, hoping her focus would be on whatever was in the stables.

Blackwall thought he’d almost gotten away with it. He’d grabbed the sword and had made it a few steps towards the barn entrance when he heard the clear words to his side.

“Hello, Thom Rainier.”

He froze, attempting to keep panic from flooding him and appearing on his face as he turned to face the Keeper, who stared straight back at him.

Why did he have to leave his fucking sword in the barn?

Able to do little else now that she spotted him, he made the short, dreaded march over to her.

“Morning, Madame Keeper,” he said, finding himself unable to break away from calling her that despite her offer.

“Still insistent on formalities, I see,” she replied, the faintest of amusement in her voice, as it had been the day before. Her eyes shifted to the sword he held. “Up for training already? Are you an early riser?”

“Not as much as I used to be. But I’m actually just going for a walk.”

Blackwall hoped she would take the hint and let him go on his way. It was not that he didn’t want to talk with Ellana’s Keeper; he just still didn’t know what to say to her.

But instead she asked, “Expecting trouble?”

“We’ve encountered bears on the path before. Can’t be too careful.” With animals or people. He had no wish to be set upon again, with no real means of defending himself. And Blackwall had no way of knowing if there were those in Skyhold who still wanted him swinging at the end of a rope.

The Keeper hummed in agreement at that, turning her attention back to what Blackwall now saw was a halla, nuzzling its head against her hand. The few times he’d seen them, Blackwall had always thought halla to be majestic creatures.

She reached into the satchel at her side, producing what looked to be berries.

“I noticed not many people are early risers here,” she remarked as the halla ate calmly from her proffered hand. “Do you know if Ellana is up yet?”

“She was awake when I left, but she hadn’t gotten up yet.” He would not mention to the Keeper why she was awake.

An indiscernible look crossed the Keeper’s face, but it fell as quickly as it came. Blackwall wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he was staying in Ellana’s quarters, but he wasn’t about to bring it up. He was on shaky enough ground as it was with her.

“I saw the crown you made for her. You’re quite the carver.” Her eyes shifted past him. “I assume that is also your work?” 

Blackwall looked behind him at the unfinished griffin, the one he’d had yet to touch, as if it no longer belonged to him, instead to the Blackwall he’d left behind that night. He wondered if the children’s parents would even let them play with something he made again. “Yes. Just need to work on the rockers, then paint it.”

The Keeper brushed her hands together, wiping away what remnants of berry the halla’d left behind, then strolled over to the griffin. Blackwall followed her inside.

She ran her hand over the top of its head. “The ease with which you made this. It makes me wonder…did you have a family before? A child? A wife?”

Blackwall couldn’t exactly place it, but there was something in her question that he didn’t like. It felt the Keeper was critically studying him behind a veil of politeness. Using calmness and a diplomatic tone to mask her search for answers. He could now see where Ellana learned it from. But from the Keeper, it unnerved him. At least with Ellana’s other clanmate he met, Camlen, Blackwall had known exactly where he stood. With the Keeper, it was much more difficult to get a definite read on her, and what she truly thought about him.

That unease was what spurred him to respond with a curt, “I wouldn’t have been with my lady Ellana if I was married to another woman.”

But the Keeper did not fire back at him as he might have expected, instead staring at him with measured calm.

“I was implying nothing of the sort. However, you may forgive me for not knowing otherwise. Much of what I know of you are rumors. Perhaps we should change that.”

Before Blackwall could respond, the Keeper sat down on one of the mats besides the crackling fire pit, placing herself down with the level of ease he’d more expect out of someone half her age. She gestured over to the mat across from her. Seeing no other way through except to talk, he placed his sword back on the table and went over to her.

“So tell me,” the Keeper said as he sat down. “Where are you from? Who were you before this?

“I was born in Markham. Won the Grand Tourney of the Free Marches when I was eighteen, and did mercenary work for a few years before joining the Orlesian army.”

He wondered if she’d heard of the tourney, if he’d need to explain it like he did for Ellana, but there was a spark of recognition in her eyes. “How long were you in the army?”

“Just over twenty years. Rose through the ranks, eventually became a captain.”

“Through any unscrupulous means?” She asked the question non-judgmentally, but with the searching look.

“I earned the promotions from combat.” He let out a dark noise. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t try. Or that I didn’t do things I’m not proud of.”

“I assume you mean before the murder of the Callier family?”

Blackwall nodded, looking away, not wanting to see the Keeper’s face at his confirmation. Maker, it was difficult to talk about, but he had to acknowledge the man he’d been before. The one who hadn’t been above taking bribes or trying to sleep his way to a higher rank or social standing. The one who had craved gold and good wine and the thrill of having a different woman in his bed at night. The one capable of saying yes to the assassination of a powerful general for money.

“And your involvement with the Inquisition? How did that come about?”

“My lady Ellana and a few of our companions happened upon me,” he said, thankful she’d changed the subject. “They had word of a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands, of Warden Blackwall.”

“And instead they found you.” She tapped thoughtfully against the brown band at her wrist. “How long had you been this Warden Blackwall?”

“Around five years. He found me in a tavern on his way to Val Chevin, a Warden outpost in Orlais. He meant for me to join the Wardens.” He swallowed, voice low and rough as he continued, “Died saving me from a darkspawn blow.”

Even now, Blackwall could see it all so clearly, reliving the moment as if it happened in front of him. Of Warden Blackwall telling him to retrieve a phial of darkspawn blood. Of coming back to find a horde of darkspawn attacking. Of Warden Blackwall stepping in front of him and falling, the blood flowing heavily from his neck. Of trying to press a dirty cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding, but watching the life leave the Warden’s eyes. It was an image that he doubted he’d ever truly wash away from memory.

“Admirable, that you would take up his mantle.”

“It wasn’t at first. It was about saving my own skin,” he said, the ease of admitting this surprising him. “You say you’re a Warden, and people stop asking questions. I needed that cover; I was still a wanted man.” Though he wouldn’t also admit the other reason was to allow him to travel to taverns freely and drink himself into a stupor in a vain attempt to forget. Least not to the Keeper. “But what happened to Warden Blackwall wouldn’t leave me. His death had changed me. It eventually inspired me to follow his example, to help people. So I pretended to be him; I needed to believe I could be a better man.”

The Keeper didn’t say anything, still studying him with a neutral calmness. He really wished he could tell if he was making any headway with her. “So how did everything come about with my First?”

The emphasis on “my First” caught Blackwall’s notice, the first real sign of noted disapproval. He would have to tread carefully. “It almost didn’t. Being together for months, getting to know her…I couldn’t help have feelings for her. But I was reluctant. Because of what was at stake with Corypheus. But also because of my past.”

He felt so bloody awkward talking about this with the Keeper, unable to fully express the depths of his conflicting feelings to be with Ellana. But Blackwall knew he had to try, and provide as honest answers as he could give.

“What changed, then?”

He shifted around, tapping his fingers against the ground, nervous energy bubbling inside him from sitting still and the Keeper’s questioning. “I took her to the site of where the real Blackwall died. I tried to tell her the truth, explain why I couldn’t be with her, that I could never be worthy of her…but I lost my nerve. And my ability to keep myself away. My lady Ellana didn’t want to let us go.”

Blackwall noticed a perceptible raise of the Keeper’s eyebrows. “So she was the instigator of your relationship?”

“We both wanted to be together. But yes, she had the ultimate say in the decision.”

The Keeper faced the firepit, lips pursing into a fine line. “I see.”

The silence quickly became as stifling as if a ring of firepits encircled them. He wondered if the Keeper had truly thought it’d been the other way around. She was not overly hostile to him like Camlen had been, but that clearly didn’t mean she thought better of him. Blackwall had known it would be an uphill battle, to earn her clan’s respect and approval, even before all this, but it was one he was still willing to fight for his lady.

“I know I don’t deserve your trust, Madame Keeper, but believe me when I say that I love her, with everything I have.”

Whatever his sins and mistakes, how could he entirely regret the path he’d followed, if it led him to Ellana? To be with someone so devoted and loving, willing to forgive the undeserving nobody he was and give him a second chance? Not only at her love, but at finding redemption at her side?

Hope rose within him when she said, “I believe you do. I also believe you’re no longer the man you once were.” But he found the hope quickly sinking when she continued, “However that does not change things with you and Ellana.”

“So you don’t approve, then?”

The Keeper fixed him with a firm gaze. “My approval or disapproval is irrelevant. What matters is she is as effective a leader as she can be.”

“And I’m in the way of that?” he asked, unable to help the bitterness in his words, feeling the taste of them in his mouth.

She looked at him with an almost maddening certainty. “Love is, by its very nature, selfish, Ser Rainier.” He couldn’t help the flinch, but the Keeper either did not notice or did not comment on it. “It puts one person above all others. As Inquisitor, Ellana must look out for the interests of _all_ those she serves, not just one. No matter how much that person may mean to her. And that is what she has done in granting you your freedom. Surely you must know what is being said about her?” 

He may have accused her of corruption and using her influence for personal favors in a moment of anger at his judgment -words he’d come to regret- but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard them whispered by some in the corners of Skyhold. Or seen the few disgruntled looks thrown her way.

“I didn’t ask her to free me,” Blackwall said, unable to help the defensiveness overcoming him. “I didn’t ask for the Inquisition to get me out of Orlais. My lady Ellana acted as her conscience demanded.”

“Not just her conscience,” the Keeper replied. “And therein lies the problem.”

With a crack of her knees, she arose from the mat, walking back over to the unfinished rocker. Blackwall followed suit, yet stayed back, unsure of what else could be said.

After a moment of what appeared to be her examining the two rockers still in progress, she asked quietly, Blackwall almost straining to hear her, “Did she ever tell you what happened to her sister Brianya?”

“Yes, she did.”

Blackwall wondered if the Keeper was going to bring it up, the similarity to that of Cassius the mercenary to Thom Rainier, doing anything at the prospect of good coin. A similarity that hadn’t escaped Blackwall’s notice when Ellana told him of the events that led up to her sister’s death. Rainier may not have tried to sell anyone off to slavers, but Blackwall feared whether he would have if the price had been right.

But the Keeper veered off in another direction, stating as she placed the rockers back on the table with a dull thunk, “Then you must realize how much Brianya meant to her. Ellana is very devoted to those she deeply loves.”

The Keeper then turned to face him, seriousness etched into the lines of her face. “Brianya’s death nearly destroyed her. Tell me what you think would happen if something befell you?”

Her words hit him as strongly as that chevalier’s punch to the gut, the question much like the one Ellana had asked of him. Blackwall didn’t need to imagine it. He’d seen the evidence of what it would’ve done. And the last thing he ever wanted was to cause her such pain again.

The Keeper did not wait for a reply from him before continuing, “You may love her, she may love you. That love may give her strength, yes. But it may also do her harm. And that I cannot abide.”

It struck Blackwall how _calm_ her voice remained, yet there was no missing the strength, the authority, clearly heard behind it. 

“I understand.” A sick feeling spread through him, reminded of the worry he’d felt when he’d spoken with Camlen. “Will you order her to end this?” he asked, unable to conceal dread of her answer.

The Keeper shook her head. “I will not order her, or you, to do anything. I realize the decision is up to the both of you to make. All I ask is you truly think about the consequences.”

She then strolled away, just as calmly, heading back over to the halla she’d been tending to earlier, signaling an end of their conversation. He should have felt some sort of relief that it hadn’t ended worse, but the unease and her cautionary words stayed rooted within him, unwilling to release their hold, and filling him with the burning need to get as far away from this barn as possible for awhile.

Blackwall grabbed his sword, looping his scabbard back around him. Legs heavy, he forced them forward, trying not to think about Ellana or the Keeper or the emotions beginning to swirl inside him. Least not until he could be alone to think.

So focused was he on getting to the main gate, he didn’t even notice the person in front of him until it was too late. He issued a “sorry,” just wanting to get out of there quickly. But the man, who Blackwall noticed at closer glance was wearing an Inquisition uniform, looked at him straight in the eye, disgust clear in his voice as he said he didn’t accept apologies from murderers and traitors, and went right past him with a hard shove to Blackwall’s shoulder.

He turned back around, rubbing at it, watching the man go, only to see the Keeper at the well, in clear view of what just unfolded.

She didn’t say a word, merely staring back at him with a knowing gaze.


	7. -7-

**-7-**

Though Ellana enjoyed the stillness of the early morning, the time just around dusk was a close second. Activity about Skyhold started winding down, people began to retreat to their quarters or the tavern for a night of revelry. People who milled about in the garden courtyard during the day began to disperse, allowing her a quiet moment to tend to her own section. Occasionally, Thom would join her, or another one of her companions, but most times, it was just her

This night, the Keeper sat nearby, leaning against a bench, completing her evening meditation routine. Just as it’d been with seeing Camlen, it almost felt like her life before, as if for a brief moment, it was a typical night with the clan.

Ellana still couldn’t believe she was there. Though Ellana had her duties and was unable to take the Keeper around for a proper tour, she shadowed Ellana throughout the day, watching her as she made her rounds across Skyhold, holding inspections and check-in meetings. To see the kind of leader she had become.

Even still, she found herself leaning on the Keeper for something that came out of a meeting, indecisive on which major Orlesian family to establish further relations with, the Thibaults or desRosiers. The Keeper had helped her think and talk it out in a way few others were able to do, making Ellana more confident in her initial leaning to back the Thibaults.

Though grateful for the Keeper’s presence and counsel, Ellana couldn’t help feel the slightest pang of guilt, that she couldn’t offer the same with the clan. The Keeper ultimately made the final decisions, but she’d willingly sought Ellana’s opinion and relied on her assistance. Even with this city council established, the Keeper was still solely responsible for decisions impacting the clan, just as it was when Ellana’s mam had died.

But there was nothing to be done about that now, Ellana reasoned with herself as she set down her water pail. As Thom had once told her, it was too late to go back to life before Corypheus and the Inquisition.

“It is quite peaceful. I can see why you spend time out here.”

Ellana turned around to see the Keeper staring at her, clearly finished with her meditations. “It’s usually quieter around this time. I try to take those moments when I can.”

“Of course. But you did well today. The Inquisition is fortunate to have you as its leader.”

Ellana ducked her head, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks and modest pride at the Keeper’s compliment. The fact Ellana had this validation from her, without even asking for it, made her feel like the child she’d once been, demonstrating a spell or potion she’d finally mastered, earning the Keeper’s approval.

“Ma serannas. But I learned how to be one from you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, da’len, but you do have an aptitude for it,” the Keeper replied, as terrible at taking compliments as Ellana. Her brow then furrowed in thought. “I understand from Camlen that you are also in combat?”

Ellana nodded. “Yes. I’ve been training with a knight enchanter, and Thom’s also been helping me with maneuvers.”

As soon as Ellana mentioned his name, she wanted to rein the words back in. It wasn’t as if she wanted to hide that fact from the Keeper. Even before they were together, Thom had been such a helpful and patient teacher in showing her how to avoid hits and shoot spells off faster while fighting.

But the Keeper had not mentioned anything about the two of them all day. Ellana wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t going to complain about the respite. Though the Keeper did mention she’d bumped into Thom that morning. She hadn’t elaborated on how it went, only saying that it was illuminating. Ellana couldn’t imagine it had gone that terribly, then. At least she hoped.

The Keeper did not respond immediately, instead moving beside Ellana, grabbing for the pail and asking which plants had yet been attended. Ellana pointed to the closest pot beside the Keeper, containing Prophet’s Laurel, the last one she needed to tend to for the evening.

“I did not see Ser Rainier at supper,” the Keeper said, as if discussing the weather. But there was something in her face that Ellana did not like. As if she was not surprised, of receiving confirmation to notions she’d already had in her mind.

“He’s been taking meals elsewhere,” she explained, with understanding, still not wanting to push him. Though Ellana had hoped he would’ve joined them this time with the Keeper there.

The Keeper patted the soil surrounding the laurel, humming in acknowledging, yet not saying anything more. Ellana hoped that was the end of that particular conversation, particularly once the Keeper had finished watering and stood up from the ground.

“I think I shall retire for the evening,” she announced.

“Of course,” Ellana replied, a weight lifting off her, that the discussion about her and Thom had been avoided. She could focus on sorting the herbs gathered from the Exalted Plains without worry. “Have a good night, Keeper.”

But the Keeper did not wish her the same and move towards the stairs. Instead, she stared down at her, the seriousness in the Keeper’s eyes appearing inflamed from the light of the lantern nearby. 

“He cannot hide away forever, da’len.”

Ellana froze, indecision paralyzing her on how to respond, knowing she risked starting an argument she didn’t want to have. But the Keeper did not wait for one, telling her good night before walking away.

* * *

Later, Ellana sat cross-legged on the floor by the fire, the herbs she’d collected on her trip spread out before her. After a failed attempt at meditating, she’d been further delayed by remembering the thank you note she needed to write to Athros and Noranni for the flower crown. While writing it, she’d begun to feel a familiar pulsing at her temples and behind her eyes. Given the stress of the past few weeks, she was surprised she hadn’t suffered a severe headache sooner.

Once she had finished the note, she had tried chewing on her supply of bark, resting her head back against the couch, but that only managed to take the edge off before starting up again. She really didn’t want to call it a night just yet. She preferred sorting through what she brought back from their outings within the first day or two upon returning.

As she reached for an elfroot and placed it in the growing pile, Ellana turned the Keeper’s words over in her head. She knew them to be true, and certain Thom knew as well, but he’d shown no desire of breaking from the new routine. It was a small thing, in comparison to the trust he’d betrayed and lies he’d told, but it would be an encouraging sign that things were truly on the mend, that he could integrate himself back into life at Skyhold and the Inquisition. Something the Keeper clearly also concluded.

But Ellana never expected everything to turn to normal within a week, or even two or three. Nor did she want it to. She wanted to rebuild something new and more solid than what they’d built their relationship on before.

She wondered how that night would go. They hadn’t said much to each other the night before, a mix of jumbled nerves from the Keeper’s surprise visit and exhaustion after a long journey back. And she hadn’t seen Thom since he left for his walk that morning.

Ellana rubbed at her forehead, willing her mind to stop thinking about all this, when she still needed to finish her current task. But no sooner did she re-focus on the herbs than she heard the creak of the large door below and its close.

She glanced over to the landing, spotting Thom on the stairs with a mix of relief and uneasy anticipation. “Evening, vhenan.”

“Evening.” Instead of coming over to her for a kiss, he plopped down on the far end of the couch.

She thought it curious, but she went back to her sorting, the steady pounding in her head reminding Ellana that she would not have much more time before she’d have to stop.

But then she realized how quiet he was being. Not that he needed to make conversation. Some of their best times together were simply cherishing each other’s company. But for him to just sit, not doing anything except stare into the fire blankly…considering what happened before when he’d been so silent and brooding, it concerned her.

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely,” Ellana said, breaking the silence. And it was true. She thought it a nice surprise to come out to, seeing the yellow and white flowers waiting for her on Josephine’s desk.

But Thom didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge her words. Frowning, Ellana stood up and sat down beside him, placing a tentative hand at the back of his neck. He jolted at the contact, relaxing a bit when he saw it was her.

“Is everything alright?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. But he immediately turned his head back around, in the exact way as that night in the tavern, before he left, telling her that he was hiding his feelings away.

“Thom.” Her voice didn’t lose concern, but also carried firmness. How many times had she accepted his reluctance before, out of not wanting to push or pry? They couldn’t fall back into those old habits again. “What’s wrong?”

His face fell, likely at her unwillingness to drop the issue. “I…” He buried his head in his hands. “I don’t fucking know anymore.”

Her heart hurt at such a broken tone. Scooting closer to him, she rested her head against his, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as she combed through his hair. Being right next to him now, Ellana could smell the mead on him. He didn’t seem drunk, but she wondered if he’d been trying to get there.

Creators, what could have possibly happened to put him in this state?

“What don’t you know?” she asked softly.

Thom sighed, a great heaving sigh that rippled through his body. He untangled himself from her and stood, resting his forearm against the sill of the fireplace. Ellana stayed put, sensing that he needed the space.

Finally, he said, in such a quiet voice Ellana just barely caught it, “I shouldn’t have come up here.”

She immediately felt dread in the pit of her stomach at those six words, the pain in her head temporarily forgotten. It took her a moment before she could trust herself to speak. “What do you mean?”

“That night, after finding Blackwall’s badge. I shouldn’t have given in,” he said, as if every word caused him great anguish.

“You say it like I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going to let things go that easily.”

He finally looked at her, the pain practically radiating on his face. “Even if I’d told you the truth?”

She’d wondered about that, if Thom had told her who he was at the Storm Coast, whether that would have changed things. She was fond of him by then, had feelings for him, but would that have been enough if the knowledge of who he truly was and his past came to light? Would she have been scared off from committing to a relationship?

Thom turned away at her silence, but not before Ellana caught sight of the dejection in his eyes. And she knew she couldn’t let that stand for long.

“But that doesn’t matter anymore. We’re still here, together.”

Instead of the rallying effect she’d hoped her words would have, Thom’s shoulders seemed to sink and his head hung over the fireplace.

Ellana couldn’t bear to ask the question, for both their sakes, but they had to stay honest with each other. “Do you regret being with me?”

“No,” Thom said, his voice so fervent there was no doubt in her mind he meant it. “But I should. You’ve sacrificed so much for me. Will it have been worth it?”

That finally prompted Ellana to stand and walk over to his side. She took a hand in both hers, cradling it. Thom made no effort to pull away this time, his grip slack in hers. “Do you think I would have fought so hard for you if I didn’t believe that?”

Her reassurance seemed to do little to comfort him, Thom’s mournful eyes staring back at her. “I’ve hurt the Inquisition’s reputation. Your reputation.”

Ellana couldn’t deny that. Josephine had informed her how a flood of angry letters had come in about the Grey Warden treaties. Cullen and Josephine had almost come to a head over how to handle them. And Ellana was aware of what was still being said, circled around about her. Reports from agents and murmurings caught in Skyhold alone. But she knew that would be a consequence when she passed the judgment she did.

Before she could say anything in response, Thom glided his fingers across her cheek, thumb brushing along her vallaslin.

“I’ve hurt _you_.” His voice was quiet, mournful, yet also tingled with a note of shame.

“And I’ve forgiven you.” She raised his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it. “If I didn’t see a monster before, I won’t see one now.”

He looked at her in disbelief, wide-eyed and a slight shake of his head, as if he couldn’t understand how she didn’t. It was tiring, being with someone who didn’t believe he deserved love in return. But he had lived with self-worthlessness for years, she understood that. Ellana wasn’t expecting it to disappear overnight. She knew from Bri that some wounds never fully healed.

“Even if I was no better than that mercenary, Cassius?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.

Ellana’s breath caught in her throat, causing her to let go of Thom’s hand, not expecting _him_ to be brought up. The thought had crossed her mind in those early days, how similar their motives had been, committing heinous acts for gold. Ellana had no idea if Bri’d actually killed Cassius or just severely injured him. She had no idea, if he was still alive, whether he was still a selfish mercenary taking any job because it paid well -still willing to capture elves to take to slave traders- or he had seen the error of his ways and was on his own path of atonement.

But none of that changed what she knew about Thom, what she saw in him and his decision to be a better man since the day they met.

She laid her left hand over his heart. “You are _not_ him.”

Ellana couldn’t be certain if it was a trick of the light, but his eyes seemed misty as he wrapped his hand around hers and lifted it up to plant a tender kiss to her knuckles. She had to understand why he was acting like he was being judged all over again.

“What’s brought this on? What happened today?”

Unease passed over Thom’s face. “I spoke with your Keeper this morning.”

“She mentioned that to me at supper. She didn’t act like things went badly.”

The realization then hit Ellana with the speed and ferocity of an oncoming wagon barreling down at her, one that she should have seen coming, making sense of the Keeper’s behavior in the garden. “Did she try to convince you to end things between us?”

Thom’s averted gaze and silence told her all she needed to.

“What exactly did she say to you?” Ellana asked, failing to keep her voice level.

“That the decision was up to us, but to think about the consequences.” Thom let out a bitter laugh. “Like I haven’t been reminded of them every bloody day.”

Ellana could sense he was speaking about more than just the two of them. “She told me the same.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“That I’d made up my mind.”

He looked at her carefully. “Even if it means making things more difficult with your clan? With your Keeper?”

“Not with everyone,” Ellana argued, resisting the urge to rub at her temples, her headache continuing to worsen. “And there’s still a chance the Keeper’s mind can be changed.”

From the sad look on Thom’s face, she knew he picked up on the lack of certainty in her voice. He reached out and brushed her hair back, cupping her face, his touch not lasting nearly long enough before his hand fell away.

“I’ll understand, you know. If it’s too much, if you don’t want to…” His voice broke off, the pain and sorrow back within it. “I will…”

Her eyes widened, the pain swirling inside her at the realization of what he was saying. It gave her pause to truly think about it, if the clan didn’t approve of her and Thom together. If the Keeper didn’t.

Though she didn’t know how many, Ellana already knew from Camlen there were members of the clan who didn’t like it; she doubted their minds would be changed now. If that number now included those she’d been closest to, such as Marelwyn and Neras, it would hurt, she wouldn’t pretend otherwise. And the Keeper…

Ellana was not blind. While she still held out hope the Keeper would approve of them, she knew it was a very likely possibility that the Keeper would not, that they would part on fractured terms because of it.

But she’d said before she was willing to accept that reality if it came to pass.

And she still meant it.

“I made my choice,” Ellana said, feeling the certainty deep in her very being. “Come what may.”

Thom’s eyes closed. “Ana…”

“No,” she stopped before he could even start with what she knew were words of regret coming. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t lose you again, regardless of what anyone says. Even the Keeper.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said out in the Exalted Plains you weren’t giving up on us. Do you still mean that?”

She felt a tight grip on her hands, as if desperate to hang on. “You mean _everything_ to me.”

“Then you have to stop trying to take yourself away from me for ‘my own good.’ Either this is worth fighting for, or…”

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, fighting against the sudden wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. As much as she didn’t want to let him go, as much progress they had made, she also knew that despite what gains had been made, if they continued being weighed down with doubts and regrets, they would inevitably fall apart.

Sudden pounding behind her right eye caused her to let out a low noise of pain, clutching at her head.

“My lady?” Thom asked in alarm, a hand already on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, just…Elgar’nan.” She finally gave up trying to hide the fact her head was throbbing, alternating between pinching the bridge of her nose and vainly rubbing above her eye and temples. “This won’t let up.”

Ellana sat back down on the couch, propping her head back against the cushion. She shouldn’t have let it get to this point; she should have gone ahead and made the potion for it. Now she’d have to wait for the bout to pass.

Her eyes closed, she could only hear the sound of boot on rug moving towards her, the sound of leather on fabric and the dip in the couch as Thom sat back down. Then the warmth of his calloused fingers as he rubbed her forehead in slow circles.

That gesture alone brought her more comfort than any potion could. It was easy for her to fall back against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. The angle was awkward, and her cheek pressed against one of the toggles of his gambeson, but she found no incentive to move when his thumb alternated rubbing between her eyebrow and temple.

“I don’t want to give this up.” She felt the quiet rumble of his voice against her. “And I don’t mean to question you. But I’ve spent so long, believing I didn’t deserve you. That _Thom Rainier_ didn’t. And now I have to be that bastard again.”

She glanced up at him. “I understand. But if this is going to work, you have to trust me. Trusting in knowing what I want."

“I do trust you,” he said, Ellana seeing the struggle of his conflicting emotions clear on his face. “I just…”

She cupped his cheek, silencing him.

“I know, vhenan. I know,” Ellana said softly.

He kissed the top of her head in reply, and she sunk back into him, losing herself to his gentle touches and his still ever comforting presence.


	8. -8-

**-8-**

He should have known the hammer would fall.

The day so far had been a good one, the best at Skyhold since his return. Ellana arranged to have breakfast brought up for them after her morning meditation, a shared meal of rolls and a potato and sausage hash for just the two of them. They didn’t say much, but it’d felt relaxed, just sitting with each other before they had to part for the day.

Blackwall feared after his confession the night before that things would change for the worst, but it seemed to strengthen the bond between them. He’d helped sort the herbs Ellana collected while she made the potion for her headaches, then afterward, they talked. He shared a bit about his years as a captain, and she talked about her time with her clan.

It felt strange, that they should find out more about each other than they had in the whole year since they’d met. And though it was still hard to speak of those years and what he was before, Blackwall felt a certain sense of lightness that he no longer had to conceal anything from her.

Then after he’d gone to the barn and helped Dennet with morning chores, he’d gone to train, later than normal. He’d been going in the morning to avoid the larger afternoon crowds, but there were more people than usual.

Yet only one person actually left at his approach, and another actually willingly approached _him_ and asked for assistance. He recognized the lad, a fairly new recruit who’d arrived at Skyhold only a few weeks before Blackwall left, but seemed to practically live at the training grounds.

His teachings caught the attention of a guard nearby, who’d times before given him nothing but dirty looks, yet awkwardly asked if she could join. Blackwall didn’t know how long this impromptu lesson lasted, and by the time they finished, he was too drained to work on his own training. But it couldn’t take away the good feeling he left with to know that people, even if just those two, were willing to look him in the face with no judgment or disgust and ask for help training.

Then in the afternoon, Sera roped him into helping her finish making “Inquisition” cookies, which she’d been doing with Ellana until she got called away for something “Inquisitiony.” They managed to get flour all over themselves and the area of the kitchen the cook had sectioned Sera off to, the cookies were unevenly misshapen, and they were a little burnt on the edges for misjudging the time. But the delicious taste of mint and chocolate was still there and it had been more enjoyable than he’d have expected it to be.

Before he’d left, Sera had shoved a cloth filled with cookies into his arms, telling him to share with his Inky. And so he went off, over half dozen cookies in hand, in search of Ellana.

It turned out he didn’t have to go far at all. Just as he was about to take the back stairs up, he caught the sound of a voice coming from the direction of the alcove library. A closer approach confirmed it belonged to his lady.

He squeezed his way through the partly open door, not wanting to startle Ellana with the sudden noise of the door swinging all the way open.

It’d been awhile since Blackwall had been down there. Just from one of the closest bookcases, he noted the dust had settled back over, though he didn’t notice the return of cobwebs that had been there when they’d first arrived at Skyhold. That had been something he’d done for Ellana, cleaning the place up a bit, after seeing how interested she was in it. He would never forget the pure joy and excitement that lit up her face when he showed her, the adoring and grateful look she gave him and the sweet kisses that followed.

But one glance at Ellana’s face as he entered the room told him she was far from happy at the moment. He also noticed Ellana was not alone, and that the Keeper was standing across from her, a grim resolve on her face.

“Does my happiness count for nothing?”

"It's not that simple, da'len. I wish for my all heart for you to be happy. But sometimes duty must take priority. I understand how lonely such a path is, but it is one that must be walked alone."

"I'm tired of handling those burdens alone. Thom is willing to share them with me." Ellana then looked over at him, noticed his approach. “Vhenan.”

“Ser Rainier,” the Keeper greeted him with the utmost of politeness, yet her eyes could not seem to conceal displeasure towards him.

Blackwall set the cookies down on one end of the table not covered in scrolls and books. “What’s going on?”

“Merely a disagreement,” the Keeper said, her voice indicating that she wished him not to involve himself in their argument.

“I’d call trying to convince me to forsake the man I love more than just a mere disagreement,” Ellana said, an unusual amount of forcefulness in her tone.

“I don’t take pleasure in this, da’len. But my concerns are justified.”

“You didn’t seem as concerned when you sent me to spy on the Conclave. A number of things could have happened to me. I could’ve drowned, I could’ve been discovered as a mage and taken to a Circle. For Creator’s sake, you didn’t even know if the Inquisition had captured me! Yet this is what brought you here?”

“For good reason. Surely you realize that?”

Discomfort started to settle in his body, from being at the center of their argument, being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. Maybe it would be best if he left.

But one look at Ellana quelled that initial reaction to cut and run, as he’d always done. Blackwall needed to be there to support her, no matter how this went. 

Ellana’s arms crossed in front of her. “I thought about all of this. I’ve made my decision,” she said, her voice adopting her growing defensive stance.

Yet the Keeper did not appear deterred. “Despite Ser Rainier’s efforts, there will be those who will forever see the stain of his crimes on him.”

Blackwall struggled to retain his own composure at that, feeling the crushing tiredness that had become all too common at the thought of living the rest of his life on the path of redemption. The Keeper spoke true. There would be those whose trust he would never fully regain, would always see him as the murderer and traitor he was.

But Ellana appeared entirely unswayed by the argument. “So just because some people will see him as unredeemable, I should let what we have go?”

“Those ‘some people’ serve you, da’len. You cannot afford to have the authority you worked so hard for undermined at such a critical time.”

“They will still follow me. They believe in the cause the Inquisition champions.”

“Can you be absolutely certain of that?”

Silence stretched between them all like an endless desert. Blackwall knew he wasn’t certain, not when he still overheard, just the day before, angered grumblings at him getting off so easily because he was the Inquisitor’s lover. Not when Ellana had seen for herself what the response had been. And by the shadow that crossed Ellana’s eyes, Blackwall sensed she wasn’t either.

"Let me ask you something, Ellana. And answer me truthfully,” the Keeper said, breaking the silence. “If you were faced with a situation which required you to make a choice between defeating Corypheus or saving Ser Rainier, which would you choose?"

"That's...” Ellana broke off with an anxious sigh. “Keeper, that's not a fair question."

"Life, unfortunately, doesn't always give us fair choices, da'len. You know that."

All Blackwall could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, watching Ellana’s face shift as she thought about the question.

Then, after endless moments ticked by, she faced the Keeper resolutely.

"I would go for Thom first."

He had to catch himself from the reflexive protest brewing in his throat. His one life wasn’t worth the potential damnation of Thedas. She was devoted, as the Keeper said. Devoted to the point of selfishness.

But it was something Blackwall shouldn’t have been surprised by. Clearly she was, when she’d been willing to free him, no matter the cost.

Blackwall knew he had placed her on a pedestal at times, even once they were together. Saw her as the honorable and noble Inquisitor who could do no wrong. Though he had had no doubt she loved him, Blackwall never would have expected such an answer from her before all of this.

But could he honestly say differently? He hadn’t wanted to let her go; he still didn’t. If the same choice was presented to him, could he do the same? Could he sacrifice Ellana so that Corypheus could be defeated? Blackwall had never had any second thought laying down his own life. But to lay down Ellana’s, to give up the chance to save her, to lose her?

That was a line he was unsure he could make himself cross.

Blackwall chance a glance over at the Keeper, the lines of her face tightening and her lips fixed in a searing frown.

“I thought I taught you better than this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Blackwall could feel the brunt force of her words. He looked over at Ellana, who seemed to shrink a bit under the weight of the Keeper’s severe disappointment, yet staring ahead of her with a fierce, heated determination he rarely saw.

The Keeper’s piercing gaze fixed on him; Blackwall forced himself to meet it, resisting the urge to wither.

Then she re-directed her look back to Ellana, with a shake of her head. “Look at the path you’re going down, da’len. Think of Brianya.”

Blackwall watched Ellana’s eyes narrow, her back immediately tensing at the Keeper’s warning tone. “What of Bri?”

“Her desires led to negative consequences the whole clan nearly suffered for and she unnecessarily died because of. I do not wish to see the same befall you.”

He jolted at the sudden slam on the bookcase, quickly realizing it had been Ellana’s hand, yet no pain registered on her face. “This is _not_ the same! Don’t use my sister to try and guilt me!” Her yell echoed around them. “And don’t act like this is all about duty with you! I see now what this is really about!”

Blackwall didn’t know whether he should try to calm Ellana down before this escalated further and she said something she would regret later. Or if he would have his head bitten off for his trouble, that perhaps it was best to just let her get what she needed to out.

Yet the Keeper stared back at Ellana unfazed, the only real reaction to the outburst a faint spark in her eyes, which unsettled Blackwall more than if she had started shouting. “And what do you think it is about, Ellana?”

“It’s about losing another First. It’s one thing to lose me due to something out of my control.” Ellana raised her left hand to show off her mark, spitting angry green flares. “But out of my own choice? You can’t take that! You can’t accept I’ve found something else besides the clan!”

Besides debating again whether to step in and de-escalate this, he couldn’t help wonder what there was to that, when the Keeper had given him no indication that her resistance to them was personal. But Blackwall had only known the woman for two days; Ellana had known her all her life. He’d trust in her having better insight than him.

“Because you give up too much for it,” the Keeper replied, Blackwall marveling at how calm she still sounded. But then her features flashed with sadness. “You were meant to be Keeper one day.”

“Things have changed.”

The Keeper shook her head. “I regret asking you to go to the Conclave,” she said, her voice taking on a mournful tone. “If I had known what would happen…”

“I don’t,” Ellana interrupted, her voice a bit calmer yet no less emotional. “I didn’t plan for any of this. I didn’t ask to be made Inquisitor or the Herald. But I can’t make myself regret it.” She looked over at Blackwall, the love in her eyes almost too much for him to take. “Var lath vir suledin.”

Blackwall didn’t know what that meant, but he recognized “lath.” One of the same words when she told him she loved him in Elven. Another thing to ask her about, not now when she was in this tense standoff with her Keeper, not when he felt the woman’s critical eyes on him.

His gaze met hers again and he couldn’t be certain, but he thought he also saw a hint of a desperate plea in her eyes, as if he was her last chance. “Ser Rainier. Surely you agree with me on this matter?”

The guilt fueled, rational part of him did. He couldn’t deny the maddening logical sense the Keeper made. He knew he still didn’t deserve Ellana, that the honorable thing would be to break things off between them.

But he also knew she’d chosen him, despite all that. He knew he loved her. And he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.

“Regardless of how unworthy I feel, Madame Keeper, I honor my lady’s choice. I am with her, for as long as she’ll have me.”

Blackwall glanced over at Ellana, surprise and relief in the smile she sent him. He couldn’t fault her for the uncertainty, not after the night before, in the face of such a great test of resolve. He may have wavered for a moment, but he’d sworn Ellana would never doubt his place at her side again.

And he planned on keeping that vow.

The Keeper’s gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, before resignation came over her.

“Very well. You’ve both made your feelings quite clear. I see no reason to try and dissuade you further.”

“You accept this, then?” Blackwall couldn’t help pick up the slightest bit of hope in Ellana’s voice.

“It is of little consequence what I feel,” the Keeper said dismissively, similar to what she’d told Blackwall.

“It matters to _me_ ,” Ellana said, pointing forcefully at herself. “Will you accept this?”

The Keeper was silent, as if to take a moment to think things through, before she said in a neutral tone, “Accept, yes.”

But Blackwall did not have any time to feel some sort of happiness at that acceptance when her further verdict struck like a bolt of lightning.

“But approve? I will not.”

He wasn’t surprised, he truly wasn’t, but Blackwall still couldn’t help feeling defeated, like her lack of approval was a failure on his part. Especially as he watched Ellana’s face fall, as if her heart had shattered to tiny pieces that could never truly be put back together.

“I will speak with your ambassador about arranging an escort back to Wycome tomorrow,” the Keeper said, her voice taking on a detached, cold air. “There is no reason for me to overstay my welcome.”

“Keeper, I…”

Ellana’s voice caught. She tried to speak again, but the Keeper began moving towards the door, seemingly having no interest in anything more Ellana may have wanted to say.

“If you have need of me, I shall be in the garden, or in my guest quarters. A good afternoon to the both of you.”

Blackwall watched as the Keeper walked away, words in his own throat, feeling like he should say something. But he quickly realized as the Keeper left that nothing more could be said. They’d all made their choices in that room, and they’d now have to live with them.

At the close of the door, Blackwall watched his lady’s shoulders fall, her hands clenched into fists. Heard the sharp breaths. Then he saw the shake.

“Ana?” he questioned softly, slowly approaching her.

Ellana turned at his call, but she did not look him in the eye, keeping her head down and her eyes closed, as if to keep tears from falling. Blackwall’s heart ached to know he was once again the cause of them, even if inadvertently.

He would not keep away this time.

Blackwall approached and wrapped his arms tightly around her, cradling the back of her head in his hand, running soothing circles up and down her back with the other. He felt her sink against him with a broken sigh before clutching him just as tightly.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

He should be the one thanking her, for sacrificing such an important relationship for _him_. But it was not the time to focus on him and the guilt that he knew would never fully vanish. Not when Ellana was the one hurting.

“Can we…we get out of here for a little bit? Please?”

“Of course, my lady.”


	9. -9-

** -9- **

She relaxed once outside of Skyhold’s constructing walls. Even if only a bit.

Ellana had lost track of how long they’d been out there, at this spot just off the main path, towards the top of the slope, propping themselves up against some rocks. It allowed them a nice view of the late afternoon sun over the rims of the mountain peaks, with a side glance affording them a view of Skyhold below. 

Though Ellana had no desire to look down. If she did, she’d remember the Keeper was still there, she’d remember their argument. And she preferred to forget for awhile. But even with resting against Thom, her head tucked under his, his arm around her, it still proved difficult.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into that,” she said, her voice laced with remorse. 

“Don’t be, my lady.” She felt his head come to rest on top hers. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ellana sighed, snuggling against the comforting warmth he always seemed to emanate, a shield from the chill the breeze carried. “I knew the chances were slim, but…I still hoped she’d approve of us.” Her attempts to equip herself with that knowledge clearly did nothing to shield her from the crushing hurt that came from the Keeper’s definitive disapproval. 

Thom squeezed her waist. “I’m sorry things have to be like this for you.”

Her hand immediately went for Thom’s, intertwining fingers without even having to look down. “I made my choice, she made hers. It is what it is.”

“You sound so calm about it,” he remarked, sounding somewhat surprised. 

Ellana supposed it was strange that she could be now, after the outburst and emotional display Thom witnessed. 

“It’s hard,” she admitted, her anger cooled and her hurt replaced with numb acceptance. She’d probably feel the pain later, when it was night and her thoughts tried to plague her as they often did before she went to sleep. “But I’m not giving this up just because the Keeper doesn’t like it.”

Thom reached for her other hand, the one she’d slammed down on the bookcase, running his gloved thumb over the knuckles. “You were pretty angry.”

Ellana sighed, beginning to feel slightly guilty for letting their argument devolve into shouting on her part. “I didn’t mean to be. I just…hit my breaking point.” 

It started the moment she’d encountered the Keeper in that library, not expecting to see her there, just wanting to retrieve a book, one she never managed to grab. Unlike the previous day where the Keeper made an effort not to talk about Thom and Ellana, she had finally made her move, holding no such restraint this time, not wasting a second to make her arguments for why they had to end things. And something had shifted in Ellana, tired of being made to feel that there was something wrong in still loving Thom. Then when she brought up Bri like that…Ellana thought the Keeper -of all people- would know better.

Ellana wondered how much the Keeper had truly known about her sister’s discontentment, her desire for something more than life with the clan. Whether the Keeper had resented that fact, and thus why she had firmly planted her stance against Ellana’s and Thom’s relationship. Questions she was happy to leave unacknowledged for another time, as Ellana couldn’t handle the answers to them at the moment.

“I always knew how seriously she took duty,” she continued softly, speaking more for herself than to Thom. “I knew that would be a point of contention. But I should’ve realized there was more than that.”

“You mentioned her losing another First. Who did you mean? Was it your mother?”

Ellana nodded, his beard tickling her cheek. Another thing her guilt decided to pile on, that she’d diminished that loss. “Yes. There was a sickness, when I was around eleven and Bri was eight. Many fell ill, including me and Bri. Our mam cared for us throughout. We were on the mend when the Keeper got sick. Mam and her were close, so it was only natural she cared for the Keeper, too. But between us, the Keeper, and all the others who were ill, she was too exhausted to fight the plague herself. She died within a week.”

Thom kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, love.”

Ellana squeezed his hand. Watching her lively mother transformed into a pale figure lying on the bedroll, barely able to move or speak, yet still trying to reassure her and Bri that everything would be alright, had been difficult. But the pain from her mother’s death healed with time, far more than her sister’s had.

“Was it hard on her, too?”

“I was too young, too wrapped up in my own grief to truly notice. But I have no doubt it was. That it still is.” She let out a noise of frustration. “Fenedhis, she should understand.”

“I think she does,” Thom said, his thoughtful voice rumbling against her head. 

Ellana sighed again, sinking further against him. That argument really took a lot out of her. “Yet doesn’t want to.”

Whether for what she saw as for duty’s sake or her own personal feelings. But Ellana supposed the resulting stance was the same either way. 

She regretted things were at this point, that they had to be on these branching paths. Ellana would never forget what the Keeper had done for her, the maternal role she’d filled, for helping shape the leader she’d become. But they had reached a divide of opinion that would never be bridged, that would hang over their relationship like a lingering storm which wouldn’t clear. 

However, she refused to feel guilty for finding love, for wanting to hold onto it. For wanting to walk the path of leadership with the man who was her guide when she felt lost, her anchor to a world beyond the Inquisition and her responsibilities as its leader. That there was a life to be had outside of it, some day.

If that made her selfish, she willingly accepted the title.

A rumble in her stomach reminded her it’d been a few hours since lunch. It wasn’t optimal, but the cookies she’d been making with Sera were all they had, and she wasn’t about to go back down to Skyhold for supper. 

Ellana broke away from him, reaching across for the satchel of cookies. She reached for the largest one in the bunch, breaking off a piece, starting on the less burnt side first. 

“So what do you think about us?” she asked, needing to talk about something else besides the Keeper.

Thankfully, Thom followed her lead. “What specifically, my lady?” 

She waited a moment to finish chewing on a piece of chocolate before continuing. “About us. Assuming we make it through, where do you see us after all this?” 

“A house? A dog?” he asked rhetorically with a chuckle. He glanced down at her upturned hand, the mark’s green glow barely visible in the light. “Do you think that mark of yours could be used for cooking eggs? Or we could just continue as we are, no eggs necessary.” His hand then curled around hers, lifting it up to kiss the inside of her palm, his beard and mustache tickling the skin. “As long as you’re by my side, I don’t care what happens.”

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Is there anything you hope to do, after Corypheus is defeated?”

He reached for a cookie of his own, taking a large chomp out of it. “Honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Suppose I’ll have a better idea afterwards. Just doing what I can to take Corypheus down and regain the trust of those in the Inquisition is enough of a start.”

A sudden question popped to the forefront of her mind that caused dread to come over her. She didn’t want to ask it, but she had to know. 

“Do you think you’ll want to join the Wardens for real?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding less than enthusiastic over such a choice.

The worry that he wouldn’t let go of the idealism he held towards the Wardens lingered in the back of her head. That he’d still see it as his best chance of redeeming himself. It wasn’t as if she didn’t appreciate the good the Wardens did or what they stood for. She did (least before Erimond and Corypheus manipulated them), but knowing he wasn’t truly affected by the Calling was such an indescribable relief for her. She didn’t want to put her faith in the Hero of Ferelden finding a cure. She’d already been faced with the possibility of having to watch him march to his death. She didn’t know if she had it in her to do it again.

But Ellana would do it. If that’s what he truly wanted. After all, she’d set Thom free with the possibility full well in mind that he could still decide to join. But how it would hurt, to have him leave her side, have their time cut short for real this time. 

She focused on eating another cookie as she waited for his answer, not wanting to pressure him into either decision, and trying to prepare herself in case. 

His fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her face towards him. “My place is here.”

“You’re sure?” she asked quietly, wanting that confirmation, that he wasn’t just making the choice out of obligation. She didn’t want to be the one to stop him.

He nodded, a firm certainty on his face, no trace of doubt anywhere. “I’m sure.”

Ellana then leaned into his hand, unable to help a wide smile at the promise in his voice. Of knowing that he’d chosen her, just as much as she’d chosen him. 

Thom answered with a small smile of his own, one reserved for her, one that made it so easy to fall for him. “What about you? What do you hope for?” 

Ellana chewed on her lip in thought. “I’m not sure either. Clearly I’m not picking my duties as First back up.” Though it hadn’t escaped her that the Keeper hadn’t formally released her from them. “I would like to go to Wycome. See the rest of the clan, have you meet Marelwyn and Neras and the twins. Their new child should’ve been born by then, too.”

“I should like to meet them.”

Talk of Marelwyn’s baby sparked a thought in her mind, one she’d not given much thought to, when she thought him a Warden and such a reality not possible. “Have you ever wanted to start a family of your own?”

“Never thought I’d settle down with anyone to have one. I never thought I’d want that kind of life.”

She looked at him searchingly. “What about now?”

His gaze suddenly locked wide-eyed onto her, trailing down to her stomach. “Maker, Ana, if you’re about to tell me that you’re…”

She laid a hand on his wrist, silencing him. “I’m not.” She’d made sure to take her herbs again. Ellana didn’t know if she would have been able to handle an unexpected baby on top of everything else. “But if we’re planning for the future, we should know our options.”

She watched Thom’s face fell. “I’m not sure I deserve a child, not after what I’ve done.”

Ellana shook her head. “How many people here are making a rocking horse without being asked to? How many have made them little wooden toys and given them sweets to cheer them up?” She placed her hands on his neck, running her thumb under his bearded cheek. “You would be a great father, Thom.”

His eyes shone brightly at her words. “What about you?” he asked, reaching out to brush her hair back, the familiar gesture filling her with comfort. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“Honestly thought I would never get the chance to be. Before all this, I thought I’d be Keeper one day, and have to settle for caring for the children of the clan and thinking of them as my own.”

“Do Keepers not have families?”

“Some do, prior to being Keeper, like my mam. The Keeper never outright said it to me, but I knew she believed in total devotion to the clan. A family would’ve been a conflict of interest. I think she made an exception for my mam, because she was already bonded with my father prior to becoming First.” Ellana’s shoulders sagged and sadness swept over her. “Clearly she won’t give the same for me.”

Ellana felt a drawn-out kiss to her forehead, the press of his warm lips comforting against her cool skin. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

She was about to say that his presence at her side was enough, that this was something she’d just have to come to terms with. But an idea popped into her head, of something they hadn’t done in some time. That she hadn’t done since his return. 

“Can you lay down?”

Thom looked at her questioningly, but did as she asked, lowering himself to the ground. She guided his head so that it rested on her lap, his gaze staring directly up at her. Once settled, she began running her fingers through the top of his hair in gentle strokes. 

“Thought I was supposed to be comforting you,” he said, eyes fluttering closed upon her touch.

Her fingers shifted to his beard. “This is.” 

She’d always found it be as soothing to her as it was for him. There was just one thing left for her to do.

Weaving her fingers through his beard, she began to hum the first tune that came to her mind. Ellana thought she heard a sharp breath from Thom, but she began to lose herself to the notes of the song she hummed. On the second verse, she began to sing, the Dalish lullaby she’d changed from being meant for a child to one for her vhenan. She lost herself over to the familiar, slow melody, her world centered on this song and the touches she gave. 

Only to be brought back when she heard, “I imagined this after you left.”

That halted her mid-verse, staring down at him confusingly. “What?”

“In the prison,” he said, continuing in a soft voice. “It was the third night. Maybe the fourth? Easy to lose track of time in there. One of the prisoners just finished having a go at me. And I just…” His eyes closed, and it pained Ellana to see him reliving this memory, clear on his face. “I needed something, to get me through. And I thought of you, singing this song. It killed me to think of it. I didn’t have the right to anymore. But I couldn’t help it.”

His voice caught, eyes brimming with raw emotion, laying his vulnerability bare before her. “I couldn’t let you go, Ana. Even though I needed to. I still couldn’t let you go.”

She tenderly cupped his cheek. “You won’t have to now,” she said, her own voice shaking under the weight of emotion rising within her. Creators, she loved this man more than she ever thought possible.

Ellana watched as the corners of his mouth began to twitch, then bestowed her with a smile that softened the serious lines on his face. He reached up to guide her down for a kiss. Their lips met, Ellana tasting the mint and chocolate on his lips and soon after, his tongue. Neither of them showed any interest in pulling away and before Ellana realized it, she was over top him, straddling his waist, gripping his hands that lay over his head. 

When they finally pulled away, she stared down at his panting mouth, his reddened lips, and slightly disheveled beard. In that moment, she knew she wanted him. And if the desire rising in his eyes was anything to go by, she knew he wanted her, too.

“Shall we head back?” she asked, her low voice filled with longing. She may not have cared about privacy before in the Exalted Plains, but she didn’t want to throw caution to the wind in such an open space this time, too close to the main path that patrols would walk. Ellana wanted this to be _their_ moment, and theirs alone. Nor did she want to have to get themselves back down to Skyhold as night descended upon them.

He nodded, raising himself by the forearms. “Yes.”

Creators help her, the gruffness in his voice was enough to make her pin him to the ground right then and there. But she maintained some level of control, grabbing the cloth of leftover cookies and getting up. She offered a hand down, which Thom readily took it, but once up on his feet, he took her into his arms and gave her a proper kiss. One deep and thorough and threatening to knock the breath right out of her.

“For the trip down,” he murmured, nipping at her lip as he pulled away. 

Fenedhis, he was such a tease. But she wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Hand in hand, they made their way back down to the path, the ache for his touch growing with each step she took. She breathed a sigh of relief when they made it through the gate, only to remember all the steps and people between them and her quarters. She didn’t know if they could make it that far, judging by the tightening grip on her hand. 

Then she glanced over to the side and the answer came to her with such clarity, she was surprised it hadn’t come to her before. 

She tugged Thom over in the direction of the barn. A quick glance over by the stables and the lack of noise confirmed no one was there. Enough time to risk kissing him, their lips locked together in a passionate tangle to claim the other and never let go. In the force of her kiss, Thom had ended up against one of the support posts, grunting, but not wasting a beat in pulling her closer, as if wanting little space between them as possible. And Ellana was only too happy to oblige him.

“Take me to the loft,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

“Are you sure?” His voice was low and ragged, as if trying to maintain his last semblance of control, in case she said otherwise. It had been unplanned, yes, but what better place than here? What better way to truly begin things anew?

She kissed him softly, tenderly, murmuring against his lips, “Take me, Thom Rainier.”

For a split second, she thought it might be a mistake, that she might have ruined the moment by using the name he still wasn’t comfortable with. But to her relief and joy, he didn’t, kissing her and lifting her up with little effort. 

Ellana’s grip loosened on the cloth of cookies, which fell to the ground forgotten. Her legs came around his waist and her arms around his shoulders for support, one of his hands cupping the back of her head as he slowly moved to the stairs. Their kisses didn’t stop as they crossed the landing to the hay pile they’d unofficially claimed as their own, the fur throw still over it. Her knees came to his hips as he sat down, his arms now around her waist.

One by one, they peeled back the layers, caressing and gliding their fingers against each new piece of skin exposed. Too long had passed since her lips and tongue had caressed and nipped at his neck, or kissed the scars on his torso. Since he’d peppered kisses across her breasts and taken them into his mouth. This time, Ellana did not dwell on that, think back to their last night together as she had in the Exalted Plains, but instead focused on her efforts to rid him of his clothes.

She eventually ended up flat on her back, nothing but their smalls remaining. She paid little mind to the shards of hay poking against her skin, only on Thom’s fingers running across her thigh, hooking around the fabric. Her hands found themselves at his hips, set to do the same for him. 

As Thom settled between her legs, he gently cradled her face in his hands, his eyes reflecting the tenderness in his touch. He pressed his forehead against hers when he finally pushed into her, no space getting in between them. 

They moved slowly against each other, savoring every moment. Everything seemed to drift away for her, centered around this pleasurable haze, the movements of him inside her, the hot breaths against skin, the gentle touches, the soft moans and whispered words. Ellana didn’t want it to end.

“Ana.” He buried his face into her neck, followed by a desperate moan. “ _My Ana…”_

Her eyes began to sting and a lump form in her throat at his words, the first time he had ever called her “my Ana.” She thought to respond in kind, but between the joy and pleasure building inside her, Ellana didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she pulled at his hair and guided him up for another kiss, hoping it conveyed all her love and devotion, and all that she hoped their future to be. 

She came first, biting down on her lip to keep a loud moan from escaping. Thom followed shortly after, his groan muffled against her skin.

Ellana was unsure of how long they laid there, but she had no desire to move, the familiar weight of Thom’s body draped over her like a blanket. 

She ran his fingers through his hair and was rewarded with a murmur of, “I love you.”

In reply, she brushed a kiss against his sweaty forehead. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she said, her voice ringing in contentment. 

Sooner than Ellana would have liked, Thom rolled off onto his side. But they didn’t remain separated for long, his arms coming around to pull her close. She settled herself against him, her head finding itself on his shoulder, the faint light of the mark glowing against the center of his chest.

Like before, it was so easy to fall asleep, as she lay there with him stroking her hair. But she knew without a doubt that this time, when she woke up, her vhenan would still be right there. 


	10. -10-

**-10-**

The screams of the youngest child still rang in his ears as he jolted awake.

Blackwall pushed himself up by the forearms, taking in heavy breaths as if he’d been running for miles. He glanced over to his left, catching sight of the morning sky and the hint of dawn out the opening of the barn wall. No sense in trying to go back to sleep now.

He expected to see Ellana curled on her side sleeping away. But emerald eyes blinked up at him instead.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Ellana shook her head. “Did for awhile. Something woke me up, not sure what, but haven’t been back to sleep since.”

Before he could ask if it had anything to do with the Keeper, she laid her hand over his arm. “Bad dream?”

He nodded, bringing her hand up to his lips. “Yes.”

She looked at him, her brow noticeably furrowing. “What was it about?”

How many times had Ellana asked that before, and how many times had he dodged and parried the question? How many times had he deflected, not wanting to give any hint for dread of ones that could follow?

But now…the fear of losing her because of his past was gone. She accepted him, every part of him. There was no reason to hold back anymore.

“The massacre.”

Ellana’s face softened, understanding filling her eyes. “Do you dream of it often?”

He curled back up on his side, using one arm as a pillow, throwing the other around her waist. “More than I’d like to.”

Not that he needed the reminder, that his waking moments weren’t haunted by it either. However much good in the world he may bring, the screams and the terrified faces of those children would always be seared into his memory.

Her fingers ran over his face and beard. “For awhile, I thought you were having Grey Warden nightmares. Alistair told me about the ones he’s had. I thought maybe that was why you’d refused to say anything about them. But I didn’t want to push you, when I was holding back about the ones I had of Bri. ”

He brushed his fingers over her bare shoulder, gliding down to curve his hand over her hip. “I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same.”

Her hand found its way down to his chest, fingers curling into his chest hair. “You are now.” Blackwall’s eyes closed as her nails lightly scratched in a circular pattern. “Are they always about that day?”

“Much of the time, in different ways. Watching my past self do it, unable to stop it. Or trapped in my body, shouting at myself to stop swinging the sword.” His eyes fell away. “But sometimes it isn’t just Callier’s family that’s there. Sometimes…” Blackwall swallowed, the murky images painful to recall. “Sometimes you’re there too. And I’d let my men hack you to pieces. Just…”

His voice faltered, unable to continue, a slight tremble coursing through him at the thought of such a fate befalling her, too.

He felt her hand brush against his face. “I’m here, vhenan,” Ellana whispered soothingly. “I’m here.”

Not trusting himself to speak, he leaned in, pressing his face against her neck, soaking in her warmth, her solidness, the fact she was alright and lying there beside him. Blackwall felt her arms come around his shoulders, her hand stroking through his hair. When she shifted to lay flat on her back, he followed, positioning himself more comfortably at her side, reluctant to pull away from her.

Blackwall lost track of how long they remained like that before he heard soft humming. The remaining tension in his body immediately began to lift at the sound. A sound, once in prison, he thought he’d never hear again.

He almost couldn’t believe it, that they were there. Lying naked under a blanket, up in the loft of the barn where he’d left her all those weeks ago to save Mornay’s life. That they could come full circle like this, despite obstacles in their path. He still wondered if what Ellana had given up for him was worth it.

But he would be done with questioning it. He would be a supportive partner, more than he’d been before while hiding his true identity. But most of all, he’d be an honest one. The scars would never fully heal, but he was willing to share them, to give her long overdue answers to questions she asked. To give her the man he was and the man he still hoped to become. To help heal her own wounds, too.

“What about you, my lady?”

The humming ceased as did her hand through his hair. “I don’t follow, Thom.”

“You’ve spoken of forgiveness, towards me and for myself. What about you, with your sister?”

His body fell with hers as a deep sigh escaped her chest. “It’s hard. I know it wasn’t my fault, but a part of me will never let go of the blame.”

Blackwall pressed what he hoped was a comforting kiss against her skin. “You said it was an accident.”

“It was. But an avoidable one.” Ellana’s voice was matter of fact, yet also contained reflective sadness. “That day changed so much for me. I can never truly forget it. Not really.”

Maker, did he understand that. It never truly struck him before, how alike they were. Both of them carried around regrets they couldn’t let go, both suffered -in different ways- because of them. But they didn’t have to face them alone anymore. It wouldn’t be an easy road, but they would walk it together.

“It’ll be sunrise soon,” Ellana commented, bringing him back from his thoughts. “Suppose I’ll have to talk to the Keeper before she leaves.”

Blackwall raised his head, chin resting on top of her chest. “Think there’s anything else that can be said?”

“Probably not. But I can’t leave things like we did. Not entirely.” Her fingers resumed combing through his hair. “I’ll try to catch her before breakfast. I can bring something back for you. Thought I heard we’re having sweet rolls.”

He’d forgotten how long it had been since he’d looked forward to any type of meal in the main hall, the way he’d been avoiding it like the plague since his return. Just running away from his problems and his struggles, as he’d always done. But resolve steeled itself in his veins. He’d meant it he was done hiding when he’d stood up for Mornay; it was time to live up to that.

“No. I’ll join you.”

She cupped his cheek. “You’re sure?”

He nodded, laying his hand over hers. “Absolutely.”

Certainty coursed through him at his decision, only affirmed by seeing the pride on her face. He leaned in to kiss her, their lips meeting half way. Their kiss spoke of new beginnings and all they had yet to be. It spoke of the same commitment they’d made to each other at his judgment.

Their kiss quickly turned from one, to two, to three, until they were both left breathless. Eventually, his kisses shifted downward, in a familiar pattern ingrained within his very being, starting with a nip at her jaw, then slowly down her neck and to her breasts, taking his time to leave her wanting.

As he made a straight line of kisses to her belly, his mind dared to imagine what she would look like, if and when the day came she was carrying their child. Then it took him further, into a future with a house in the woods, the sounds of a child’s laughter echoing around them, growing old together. He’d reach that age sooner rather than later, and many years before her, but he planned to make the most of every single moment.

Starting right there, his kisses in reach of their intended destination, his mouth and fingers set to pleasure her until she was left breathless and boneless against the hay.

His Ana deserved nothing less.

Later, when he was the one on his back as she slowly rode him, he took in the sight of her above him, silhouetted in the glow of the sunrise beginning to peak over the mountain tops, silently thanking the Maker for this woman and everything he had with her.

Then afterwards, they both lay sated and curled up against the other, taking a few more moments for themselves before going out to face the world again.

* * *

Blackwall was just finishing up with training when he spotted them.

His group of two from the other day had turned to five, but he was happy that more people were willing to learn from him again. He supposed training to face a darkspawn magister and his Red Templar forces out in the Arbor Wilds in the coming weeks trumped any disdain for his past crimes.

He leaned against the wood railing, taking the nearby cloth and wiping the sweat from his face. When Blackwall pulled it away, he saw Ellana and the Keeper heading towards the stairs leading to the courtyard. He wondered if she was about to head out. She’d told him and Ellana that she’d planned to be on the road sometime in the morning.

They had bumped into her on the way to breakfast. It had been an awkward encounter, neither Blackwall or Ellana knowing quite what to say. For her part, the Keeper hadn’t acted like anything had happened the day before, but Blackwall swore he could pick up a reserve in her voice that hadn’t quite been there in previous conversations.

Knowing he needed to at least see her off, he made his way to the training room to drop off his equipment, then steeled himself for this final encounter with his lady’s Keeper.

When he reached the final landing, he spotted Ellana and the Keeper talking by her halla. After breakfast, they had gone off while Blackwall went to help Dennet with chores. He wondered how it went. And what they could be talking about now.

Just as Blackwall reached the bottom, he saw Ellana get pulled away by Harding, who went over to two other Inquisition soldiers with horses at their side, presumably the Keeper’s escorts back to Wycome. He felt the Keeper’s eyes on him as he neared, as if once again analyzing him.

“Madame Keeper,” he greeted.

“Ser Rainier. A word, if I may.”

He wondered what he was about to get himself into this time with her, what she would try to say, but he was determined to not make a mess of it. “Of course.”

With a wave of her hand, she directed him to around the other side of her halla. It didn’t escape his notice that they were no longer in view of Ellana, nor would she be of them.

“What exactly did you want to talk about?”

The Keeper’s arms crossed before her, her brown eyes still studying him. “What else could it be about, Ser Rainier?”

Her critical gaze still packed a strong punch, but one he was determined to not let falter him. “If this is about my lady Ellana and me, we’ve both made our decision. I’m sorry if this makes you unhappy.”

“It does, but I realize there’s nothing more that can be done about it now.”

Blackwall caught the hint of remorse in her voice. Despite the tension between them, despite her disapproval, he couldn’t help feeling sympathy for the woman, for what she felt had been lost. 

“So, are you planning to stay here?” she asked, cool politeness taking over her tone. “Not go seeking absolution with the Wardens?”

Blackwall had been thinking about the answer to this question, even prior to Ellana asking it the day before. If things had been different, if Blackwall saw no other path after Corypheus, he would’ve jumped at the chance in making that commitment, gladly undertaken the Joining and devoted himself to the Wardens cause. But now…

He had no idea how long it would be before Ellana would no longer need to be Inquisitor. Defeating Corypheus would just be the start. Rulers and nobles and ordinary people would continue to flock to her, counting on the Inquisition to help put everything back together. But he planned on being right there to help her. And when she could finally hang up her mantle, they could start a new life together. It was a day Blackwall looked forward to.

“I’m remaining here. The time for that is past.”

“I’m sure that pleases Ellana greatly.” She looked to say something more, but was interrupted by the halla nudging her shoulder with its head. She patted it, while reaching into her satchel with the other, offering up some food.

Once she finished, just as he was about ask if there was anything else, the Keeper stepped closer to him, until they were just an arm’s length apart. “Just one last question, then. Would you be willing to lay down your life for her, should it be required?”

He didn’t know what kind of question he expected from her, but Blackwall hadn’t expected one so simple, so easy for him to answer.

“Without hesitation,” he replied without faltering.

“That’s reassuring,” she said, though her tone didn’t sound nearly as grateful as Blackwall thought it would. “But my real concern is whether she would lay down hers for you.”

The thought of Ellana sacrificing herself for _him_ threatened to twist his stomach into tight knots. If someone was to lose their life, he’d be damned if it was anyone but himself. But Ellana was right. Blackwall had to stop second guessing her when it came to him. He trusted her to lead the Inquisition; he trusted her with his heart. It was time to trust and accept the decisions she made regarding him, even if that meant a painful sacrifice to spare him from harm.

“It’s her choice if she does.”

The Keeper sighed, a defeated sigh making her seem even smaller than she actually was. “Something I must also come to recognize.” Then a stern look appeared on her face. “Just be certain, the value she places on you is worth it.”

“I will make sure of it,” he replied, the determination clear in his voice.

She nodded in acknowledgment before going around the halla. Though he did not catch a glimpse of her face fast enough to see any real indication her satisfaction with his answer. He followed to see Ellana approaching the two of them.

“Done with training?”

“Saw the two of you heading down here,” Blackwall replied. “Figured it was as good a time as any to stop.”

A questioning look remained on Ellana’s face. It couldn’t have escaped her notice the Keeper and him had been talking out of sight. But she didn’t draw attention to it, turning to the Keeper. “You should be all set. Our scout Harding says the path to the Storm Coast should be clear for the moment. There hasn’t been much recent activity on it.”

Blackwall wondered if that had to do with Corypheus bidding his time and mobilizing his forces to focus on the Arbor Wilds. But if it meant safer roads for the innocent people in Ferelden, he’d take it.

“I am glad to hear it. I shall write you once I return to Wycome, to let you know I have made it back.”

The Keeper then reached out, laying her hand gently on Ellana’s shoulder. “The clan is with you, wherever you go.”

Despite the soft and almost tender way she said it, despite the hug that followed between them, Blackwall could sense the underlying tension, so unlike the embrace he’d seen when the Keeper arrived at Skyhold.

Which was proven right when he caught the words he was just able to hear, “It is never too late, da’len. If you change your mind, if things don’t work out…”

“Dareth shiral, Keeper,” Ellana said firmly, stepping out of the hug, letting her arms fall to her side.

Resignation fell on the Keeper’s face as she turned to face him. “I wish you well, Ser Rainier.”

Blackwall honestly wondered how true that was, considering what she tried to say to Ellana, but he would not burn whatever bridge he had, however precarious, for Ellana’s sake. “As do I, Madame Keeper. Safe travels.”

Blackwall stood by Ellana’s side as the Keeper hoisted herself up onto the halla, with one final parting nod to them. She guided the halla to the open gates, the two accompanying Inquisition soldiers following behind. They stood there until the three of them disappeared down the path.

He then felt a tug on his arm, looking to see Ellana gesturing to the stairs. “My lady?”

She held up her hand, only asking that he follow her. Curious as to what she had in mind, he followed her up the stairs, then to the ramparts. It made sense once they’d reached a particular section, which offered the best view of the mountain pass. And the ability to still see three shapes that transformed into specs the further along they went.

Blackwall glanced over at Ellana. Though he did spot a slight sadness in her eyes, there was also acceptance.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Well enough, vhenan.” Her eyes shifted over to face him fully. “What did the Keeper want to talk to you about?”

“Just some final questions she needed answers to.”

Ellana gave a slight frown at that. “You shouldn’t have had to explain or prove yourself anymore.”

Blackwall glanced around him, and once satisfied they had no audience, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s alright.” If it meant a chance at one day winning over her Keeper’s approval, he would willingly do it. “How’d your talk go?”

“She didn’t say much, even when I apologized for getting so heated. But clearly she’s holding out hope I’ll change my mind. This wasn’t the end of it.”

Blackwall squeezed her shoulder, this time rubbing his thumb along it. “I know.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a soft smile. Maker, how he could lose himself in her smiles. “Var lath vir suledin.”

That reminded him. “You said that before, the other day. What does it mean?”

She leaned into him, resting her head against his arm. “You know what lath means?”

“Love, right?” He had been pretty certain of that.

Her nod confirmed it. “And do you remember what that spirit told Solas, back in the Exalted Plains? What he said after it died?”

Blackwall thought back -hard to believe it was only a couple of days after the Keeper had arrived- if he had truly soaked in what was happening, what had been said. The spirit had been speaking in Elven, that much was clear. Solas and Ellana wouldn’t have understood it otherwise. The words were fuzzy, but as he thought harder, reached into the recesses of memory, an answer came to him.

“Something about enduring?”

She nodded again, the smile on her face beginning to grow in strength. “Yes. Suledin means ensure. Var lath vir suledin means ‘our love will…’”

“Endure,” Blackwall finished for her, in a whisper, the breath knocked out of him at the realization. He hoped he never lost this feeling, of cherishing how much he was loved by his lady, his Ana. And he hoped he never tired of reciprocating it.

The contentment shone as brightly on her face as the morning sun, filling him with its warm rays. “Our love will endure,” she repeated back.

Blackwall knew he still had a long road ahead of him, on his personal journey of redemption. But as he held her closer, looking out at the mountains, he felt more optimistic than he had in quite some time. Because he knew whatever storms came, he would face them with her. Together.

No matter what, they would endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, to all those who left kudos and comments, and again to thievinghippo for her beta work! :D


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